Finding Ginny
by wrappedinharry
Summary: Ginny Weasley has been missing for over three years when Harry Potter finds her. Why did she leave and will Harry be able to convince her to come home. And why is it so important to him when she is so resistent to to his entreaties. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_It all still belongs to JK Rowling. Lucky lady. But at least _

_we can play with them._

A/N: I have had this idea fermenting for quite a while and this chapter has been written for nearly as long. I am a bit stuck on my other two fics, so I thought I would see what you think of this.

I know Harry/Ginny is not the most popular ship out there, but my regular readers will know that I really love them.

So, let me know what you think, and if I should bother continuing.

Oh yeah, readers of Muggle and ASD, do not despair…I have no intention of abandoning either story.

A big thanks to Tabitha (ObdisianEmbrace) for her beta services. You're the best Tab.

**Chapter One: Well, Hello Ginny!**

Harry Potter leaned in the open driver's door of the car to farewell his cousin. The heavy clouds that were just about ready to dump their load of snow, had rushed the day towards an early twilight—the street lights had flickered on ten minutes earlier—and it was freezing cold.

"Say 'hi' to your mum and dad for me," said Harry, grinning and pulling his long coat more tightly around his slender frame. Harry's companion emitted an inelegant snort.

"Yeah, right!" Dudley Dursley chortled, his bulky frame, so dissimilar to Harry's slender elegance, was wedged behind the steering wheel. "I'll give them your regards, right after Mum asks me whether you're looking after yourself and eating properly. They both laughed.

Even though Dudley and Harry had gotten over their many past differences, Harry's Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon still eschewed anything to do with Harry. Vernon had berated Dudley long and loudly about his continued association with his cousin, but Dudley ignored most of his father's blustering these days.

"Are you sure you don't want a lift?" asked Dudley. Harry just looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Dud, I'll be home and lighting my fire before you're out of the car park."

Dudley snorted again and turned the ignition key. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sure it must be wonderful to be a wizard." The engine, which had wheezed into life reluctantly in the freezing conditions, coughed and died. Dudley swore and turned the key again. The motor hiccoughed for another second then died again. Dudley, not the most patient of individuals, smashed the steering wheel with clenched fists as big as ham hocks.

"_Shit!_" He tried again but this time the engine didn't even catch. Dudley clenched his fingers around the steering wheel and shut his eyes. He concentrated on taking deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

Dudley's eyes snapped open. The car was suddenly burbling away as if it had a Rolls Royce engine under the bonnet. And Harry was putting a long, thin length of tapered wood back in an inside pocket of his overcoat. Dudley's eyes rose to Harry's carefully blank face.

"I didn't hear you say anything."

"I didn't."

Dudley huffed out a breath that indicated that he was partly impressed, but also partly irritated. "Did you just start it or did you replace the bloody engine? It's never sounded this good before."

"Just gave it a quick overhaul," said Harry casually. He grinned. "You know; cleaned the filter, adjusted the carburettor, changed the oil, reset the timing."

"You're a bloody mechanic, too," groused Dudley.

"Hardly," answered Harry his voice now bored. And then when Dudley just continued to gaze through the windscreen with a slightly put out expression on his face, Harry added, "I can put it back the way it was if you'd rather."

Dudley's eyes snapped back to Harry's face. "No!" he said, and then, grudgingly, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Dudley pulled the door shut and rolled down the window so that he could continue to talk to his cousin. He pulled the seat belt around his substantial torso. Dudley had lost a lot of weight since his teenage years, but he was still a bear of a man. "You know, Harry, it is really hard not to feel totally jealous of you. Even now, when we've been mates for the last five years."

"Dud…"

"No, it's not just the magic, though it hardly seems fair that your mum ended up being a witch and my mum didn't, even though they were sisters." He held up his hand for silence when Harry would have interrupted again. "No, it's not_ just _the magic, Cuz. "You're smarter than me, you're good looking. The girls flock to you…"

"Dudley! Stop talking bullshit!" Harry finally interrupted. "You've never expressed any desire to be magical. And in case it's slipped you're mind, you're the one with the steady girlfriend, not me. And," he added, more than a little peeved, "while you lament your mother's lack of magical talent—a talent that she would deny ever having wanted, by the way—just remember that she's still here, while my mum—and my dad—were both murdered by a sodding arsehole of a wizard who was responsible for committing thousands of murders and causing mayhem in our world and in yours."

Dudley had the grace to look more than a little chagrined. "Sorry, Harry. Ignore me. You know how I run off at the mouth before I put my brain into gear." Harry stepped back as Dudley prepared to drive off.

"Are we still on for the nineteenth?" asked Dudley.

"Of, course. As things stand at the moment any way." Dudley backed out of his parking spot. Harry raised his hand in farewell.

"Say 'hi' to Amanda for me." Dudley stuck his thumb in the air in acknowledgement before moving off at a greater rate of knots than was strictly necessary, or indeed legal within the car park.

Harry had planned to Disapparate back to his home but in the end he decided to walk for a little while. He thrust his hands into his pockets and marched to the Main Street where he slowed to a stroll, idly looking in the shop windows. It was nearly Christmas and Harry had not done any shopping yet. Being in a Muggle town, it was the perfect opportunity to look for a present for Arthur Weasley. And Dudley and Amanda.

The shop interiors were already lit to ward off the encroaching darkness. A few flakes of snow were drifting down lazily, but Harry's steps kept pace with his thoughts. It had been a long time since Dudley had reacted so negatively to his magic.

Not that Harry used it often; in fact it was quite rare for him to use it when he was away from the magical world, other than to Apparate or Disapparate to or from a meeting with Dudley. Of course, he was very careful to appear in, or disappear from, deserted areas. Only twice since he had passed his Apparition test when he turned seventeen—the legal age for a wizard to use magic out of school—had Harry been in the position where he had had to modify the memory of a Muggle who had seen him appear out of nowhere.

The spell was simple for Harry. He only had to make his unwitting audiences forget, at the most, fifteen seconds. Still, it was not something he relished doing and so he had become even more careful, Apparating to even more deserted areas and then walking to meet Dudley. He didn't mind. Wizards could become very lazy and Harry didn't want to go down that path.

88

All Harry ended up buying during his stroll were two CDs for Arthur Weasley. For his fiftieth birthday at the beginning of this year, Harry had given Arthur a portable CD player with ear plugs and batteries that he had charmed to continue to recharge themselves. Arthur's eclectic tastes included Elvis Presley and Enya and the two CDs enclosed in appropriate Christmas gift boxes and nestled in the small plastic bag that Harry now carried, were by these two disparate artists.

As Harry exited the shop he grinned to himself. Molly Weasley would be more than a little peeved with him because she often complained bitterly that she could no longer have a conversation with her husband as he always had earplugs stuck in his ears listening to that 'infernal caterwauling'. Harry would just have to make sure he got Molly an extra special gift to make up for Arthur's obsession with Muggle music.

Since the day Harry had met the Weasley's youngest son, Ron, on the train that was taking them to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to begin their magical education, the two had become inseparable and Harry had rapidly found himself integrated into the Weasley family. Molly Weasley, who already had seven children, had taken the small, scrawny orphan to her heart and even before she had officially met him, she had begun to mother him.

For his first Christmas at Hogwarts, Molly had sent Harry a hand knitted jumper and the most wonderful home made fudge that he had ever tasted. Molly was the best cook Harry knew. For the first time that he could remember, Harry had known what it was like to be part of a real family. A family that did not begrudge the air he breathed. He had revelled in the affection lavished on him by the wonderful Molly.

Arthur and five out of the six of the remaining Weasley offspring had all been of a like mind and over the years, Harry had become a Weasley in all but name. Of course, he stood out like a sore thumb because every one of the Weasleys had flaming red hair (except Arthur's was thinning and his remaining hair was more grey than red) and Harry's hair was as black as night. Bill and Fleur even designated him as 'uncle' to their boys, Guy (pronounced Gee) and Leon, and Charlie and his wife Devon felt the same way now that they also had a son. Sam was just a month old.

Harry was thinking that he would go and look in a Muggle toy shop for the kids' Christmas presents when he found himself walking past a brightly lit café. Thoughts of gifts for the kids still occupied his mind and he had already passed the café's large window when he stopped dead in his tracks. He stood rooted to the spot for several seconds, his brow furrowed and seemingly unaware when a light flurry of snow blew into his face and smeared his glasses. Without thought, he raised his left hand and passed it in front of his face. Immediately, his glasses were snow-free and clean, though his face felt like millions of tiny little icicles were piercing his skin.

Surely he had imagined what he thought he had seen because the Weasleys were at the forefront of his mind. And even if he had seen it, red hair while not as common as blonde or brunette, was not unheard of.

_But that particular shade of red is very distinctive._

Harry turned slowly, as if in a dream and found himself back in front of the café window, staring at a young woman who had her back to the window. She was sitting at a table set against the side wall. Her long, straight, flaming red hair was spread over her slight shoulders. It fell to her shoulder blades and an ugly, bulky, olive green jumper enshrouded her torso.

Harry shook his head. It couldn't be. Could it? The hair was certainly the right colour. And she appeared to be the same tiny build, even though all he could see of her was the ridiculously large jumper that was so long, she was sitting on it, and a rather thin leg encased in faded denim. Her left elbow rested on the table supporting her head and she appeared to be writing.

Harry stared for a full two minutes, hoping the woman would turn her head slightly so that he could see more of her face. His thoughts were whirling. He had to find out for sure. It had been four and a half years since he had last seen her but he remembered her delicate heart-shaped face as if he had only seen her yesterday.

Not allowing any more time to talk himself out of his decision, Harry back-tracked to the door and entered the nearly empty café. Two middle-aged women surrounded by shopping bags were sitting towards the back, talking and occasionally raising mugs of coffee to their mouths, and a young couple were holding hands across their table, their eyes focused solely on each other, their coffee forgotten. There was no one behind the counter.

Ten steps carried Harry across the dirty vinyl floor. His stomach lurched. The young woman was so engrossed in her task, she did not register the presence of the dark-haired man standing several paces away. Her eyes never strayed from the exercise book in which she was writing but as Harry watched, she put down her pen and reached for her half empty mug of cappuccino, absentmindedly lifting it to her lips as her eyes remained glued on what she was writing.

"Hello Ginny."

88

Ginny Weasley thought that her heart would stop beating. In fact, she was sure it had for a split second because the large mug of coffee fell from her suddenly nerveless right hand, and totally paralysed, she watched, horrified as the milky brown puddle spread inexorably over her precious writing before reaching the edge of the table and dripping over her denim clad legs and onto the floor.

Everything was suspended except for the slowly spreading coffee. Ginny had stopped breathing and every vestige of colour had drained from her face. A high pitched buzzing filled her ears, blocking out all noise except her erratically beating heart. Her brain was mired in horror and the only part of her body that seemed to be working was her eyes, and she wished she could close them because she did not want to continue to watch the destruction of several hours work, and she certainly did not want to look up and see the face that belonged to that voice.

A slight movement in the corner of her eye registered and the next second, she was gazing down at a perfectly clean and dry page in her exercise book that was now only covered with her small, neat writing. Her jeans too were now dry and coffee-free, as was the floor. She knew what had happened, just as she knew—had known as soon as she had heard that voice—who was standing next to her. Slowly, as if she had just been released from a Full Body Bind, Ginny raised her head and stared into the beautiful emerald green eyes behind the lenses of a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses. Those eyes still haunted many of her waking and _most_ of her sleeping hours.

Harry was shocked. It was definitely Ginny but she was a shadow of her former, vivacious self. Always petite, she was now rail thin—unhealthily so. She was as pale as one of the Hogwarts' ghosts and even the tiny freckles that had once marched cheekily across her nose and cheekbones thumbing their noses at her otherwise flawless peaches and cream complexion, had faded. Those cheekbones now looked as if they had been carved with a hatchet, standing out below huge, haunted brown eyes that had once radiated mischief and an unquenchable _joie de vive_. At the moment however all Harry saw in those eyes was misery and fear, and perhaps a little resentment and defiance.

"How did you find me?" Ginny's voice was as dead as her eyes were haunted, and if Harry had expected any sort of welcome, her tone of voice quickly disabused him.

"I didn't _find_ you because I wasn't searching _per se_. I just happened to see you as I was walking past the café."

A streak of angry colour appeared along those chiselled cheekbones and for a second Ginny's eyes glittered with a spark of the famous Weasley temper.

"Oh, come on Harry," she snapped. "Why would you be in this Muggle town if you weren't searching for me?" She paused for breath and then hissed, "And I hope nobody saw you wielding your wand when you cleaned up the coffee you made me spill."

Harry's eyes narrowed a little and when he spoke it was with an equal bite in his voice. "Firstly' nobody saw me wielding my wand because I didn't use my wand. And secondly, we stopped actively searching for you at least two years ago. Of course, that hasn't stopped any of us doing a double take every time we see a girl with long red hair. Just as I did today."

Ginny swallowed painfully and Harry was sure he saw a hint of tears before she looked back down at her exercise book where she began to flick her thumbnail across the edges of the multiple pages. Harry watched her efforts to distance herself from his presence for several seconds before pulling out the chair opposite her and lowering himself into it.

Ginny's eyes snapped to his face. "Oh, do have a seat!"

Harry's eyebrows rose. He was surprised by her nastiness. She had always been so easygoing. He decided to ignore her taunts, putting them down to the shock of seeing him so unexpectedly. "What happened, Ginny? Why did you run away?"

Ginny lowered her eyes again and was now nervously twirling her Muggle pen over and over in her fingers. She did not answer.

Despite his good intentions, Harry could feel his anger begin to get the better of him but he made a valiant effort to tamp it down. This whole scenario was just so surreal. And Ginny was so _not_ the person he had come to know all those years ago. But it was _definitely_ Ginny Weasley, and the fact that she was even alive was a miracle.

From the moment he had known that it was really her, his instinct had been to grab her and hold her tight in case she disappeared again. But he did not need his Legilimency skills to know that any such move would be met with violent resistance. To get over the awkward moment and to give himself time to fully assimilate the fact that he had found Ginny, Harry surreptitiously conjured, with a casual wave of his hand, a cup of cappuccino for himself and a fresh one for Ginny. She looked at the drinks in amazement and then she raised her shocked eyes to Harry who was already taking a sip of the milky coffee. He raised his eyebrows at her over the top of his cup.

But instead of commenting on his wandless and non-verbal spell work, Ginny said acerbically, "Have you an objection to paying for a drink, Harry? I don't remember you being a penny pincher."

Harry lowered his cup. "You know I'm not but I was unwilling to leave you alone for the length of time it would take me to walk to the counter and order the drinks. I have a feeling you would have made a bid for freedom."

Ginny's face coloured again—Harry noted that her embarrassment did not produce the all encompassing angry red that always suffused Ron's features when he was angry, instead a delicate pink wash of colour covered her cheeks and forehead—and she quickly looked away from Harry's piercing regard. The fact that he was right in his assumption that she would have made a run for it made her clench her fists in her lap with resentment and anger.

Harry too lowered his eyes. It disconcerted him somewhat that he remembered the soft peach tinge that stained Ginny's skin when she was embarrassed or angry. He gazed into his cup and grinned mentally as he realised that he should not be so surprised that he remembered what Ginny looked like when she was angry. After all, she was a redhead and she was her mother's daughter and whilst he loved Molly Weasley dearly, nobody could deny that she had a formidable temper.

Being a surrogate son, he had not been spared many demonstrations of the power of that temper over the years. He had always been treated the same as any of Molly's natural born sons and he truly never wanted it to be any other way regardless of how uncomfortable those moments could be.

Whilst Harry had been reminiscing, Ginny had made a valiant effort to pull herself together. She had not been this discomposed since just before the end of her fifth year at Hogwarts and on that occasion her whole life as she had known it had come to an end. She was not going to allow matters to escape her control this time, however.

To this end she yanked a large fabric patchwork bag from where it hung over the back of her chair and began stuffing her book and pens into it. She knew Harry was watching her but she steadfastly kept her eyes down. She longed to just drink in his features, commit this new, mature Harry to her memory so that she would have something wonderful to latch onto during her darkest times.

But she could not weaken.

"You have to leave Harry and I want you to forget that you've seen me. Please don't tell my…my family." Ginny choked as she said these words but she took a deep breath and continued stoically, surreptitiously wiping tears from her eyes. "I've made a new life for myself in the Muggle world and it would only cause trouble if I was to go back."

When Harry made no move to get up, she reluctantly raised her eyes to his face. He was looking at her as though she had lost her mind. His expression was a mixture of pity and incredulity. "If you think I can pretend to your parents that I haven't seen you, haven't spoken to you, then you're mad. Have you any idea what your disappearance has done to them?"

Ginny stared at Harry for a second, then she lowered her head and pretended to be looking for something in her large bag. But not before Harry had seen the tears still shining in her eyes.

He decided a little more guilt heaped on her shoulders might increase her obvious feelings of remorse.

"I doubt you'd recognise your mum and dad, they've aged so much. You remember what your Mum went through when Percy defected…well you can multiply that by a hundred."

"Stop it," whispered Ginny.

"You were the light of their lives, their much longed for, much loved daughter. They think you're dead."

"Shut up!" Ginny dashed the spilled tears from her cheeks with a furiously shaking hand, at the same time as she scooted her chair back noisily and stood up. When she would have swung her bag over her shoulder, Harry grabbed her wrist. His fingers and thumb easily overlapped and the tiny bones felt as though they would break if he exerted the least amount of pressure.

"Let me take you home, Ginny."

"Leave me alone, Harry. This is none of your business. _I_ am none of your business." She tried to pull her hand free and when that didn't work, she tried to prise his fingers apart with her free hand. She most definitely did not need Harry Potter manhandling her.

"Yeah, it is my business. _You _are my business," Harry contradicted, and then he yelped, releasing Ginny's wrist smartly, shaking his hand and then raising it to his mouth. Ginny had dug her fingernails into the back of his hand after failing to prise his fingers open. And she had drawn blood

"That bloody hurt!" said Harry through clenched teeth, but he was talking to fresh air. Ginny had taken advantage of her hard won freedom and was hurrying towards the door. Harry saw red. He made sure his back was to the two women as he thrust his hand into his pocket and touched his wand. He did not withdraw it from the deep coat pocket but after grasping it for a moment, he withdrew his hand and raised it, fingers splayed, towards the door and muttered, _Colloportus. _He heard the squelching noise that told him the door had sealed itself just as Ginny grabbed the handle and pulled.

She looked like she had dislocated her shoulder as her hand flew off the large metal handle due to the force she had used to open it. But without pausing, she grabbed the handle again and tugged even harder. When the door still failed to open, she rattled it in its frame, getting angrier and angrier with every passing second.

Harry saw the oblivious lovers register an intrusion into their blissful aloneness and reluctantly look towards the door and the crazed woman trying to open it. He knew the two women with all the shopping had also tuned into the show, and a guy had entered through a swinging door at the back of the café and was standing behind the counter, frowning as he watched Ginny's antics.

Finally Ginny gave up; she kicked the base of the door viciously before swinging around and glaring at Harry. "You open this door Harry Potter," she ground out through white lips. "_You open it now_."

Harry moved towards Ginny as the proprietor called out, "Are you all right, Ginny?" as he walked out from behind the counter.

Ginny turner towards him as if he was a lifeline. "He's locked the door, Simon, and I can't open it."

Simon frowned again and looked at Harry suspiciously. Harry raised his hands in an 'I don't know what she's talking about', gesture as the beefy man strode to the door. When he grabbed the handle, the door opened easily. The lines already etched on Simon's large forehead deepened as he looked at Ginny, who in turn was looking furious and embarrassed.

Ginny took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It must have stuck or something," she said in a mortified voice.

"Are you sure you're all right, kiddo? You look really pale."

Ginny glanced at Harry who was standing with his arms crossed. She wondered where his wand was. She hadn't seen it once and yet he had cast at least four spells in the last fifteen minutes. She wrenched her eyes away from his smug face. She'd give him smug!

"This man is harassing me, Simon. He just came and sat at my table and started to make lewd suggestions. Can you call the police for me?"

Harry raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head as if to say, 'Ginny, Ginny, Ginny!'

The next thing Ginny knew, Harry's wand _was_ in his hand and he had pointed it in quick succession at the five Muggles. She watched with her mouth open as Simon moved back behind his counter and began to fiddle with his coffee machine, the two lovers grasped hands and stared into each other's eyes again, and the two ladies continued on with their conversation as if they had never stopped.

She turned her furious face back to Harry as he pocketed his wand. "You Obliviated them?!"

"I wouldn't have needed to if you hadn't brought Simon into this. You have no one to blame but yourself."

Ginny mouthed silently for several seconds, then she let out a noise of unadulterated rage and pure frustration before turning back to the door and wrenching it open. As she hurried off down the street, Harry was right on her heels, his long black overcoat flapping around his legs.

**TBC…**

13


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **You know it all belongs to JK Rowling. This is a non-profit venture. i'm just trying to entertain.

Harry finds out a more about Ginny's situation, but he is still in the dark as to why she ran away in the first place. He's in for a bit of a shock!

I hope you all enjoy chapter 2.

Some feedback would be lovely.

Chapter 2

Ginny knew that Harry was following her. She didn't need to glimpse his coated-figure in the shop windows as she rushed along. She knew Harry Potter of old. And she remembered all too clearly just how determined he could be. A little sob caught in her throat and she put on even more speed, even though she knew her flight was doomed to failure.

Her mind was in turmoil. She had been shocked when Harry had spoken from right beside her back in the café. Her heart _had_ stopped, she was sure it had, but the reason, despite her emphatic mental denials, was not entirely horror at having been found; it should have been, _she wished it had been_, but no, a powerful wave of joy had also risen in her at the sound of that voice.

She had been unable to prevent it. It was as if she had been waiting to be found—waiting for him. Perhaps it had just been a side-effect of her cardiac arrest, but her heart had swollen to twice its normal size, making breathing difficult. The lack of oxygen combined with the wave of emotion that had swamped her, was what had made her light-headed.

But her indisposition had not lasted long before anger had come to her rescue. She _didn't_ want to be found. And she didn't want Harry _bloody _Potter with his amazing eyes and his sexy voice and his new elegance to affect her like he did, not when he had never, _ever_ shown the slightest interest in her. Her frustration and fear had exploded out of her and she had really given him what for.

But then he had told her a few things and she had almost fallen apart again. It wasn't just the content of his lecture; she had been so close to howling after hearing about how her disappearance was still haunting her mum and dad, but the sound of Harry's voice made everything he said so much more poignant. It was almost Snape-like in its mesmeric quality, and when she had managed to look up, those emerald eyes had pierced her soul anew. Ever since she had first seen Harry, his eyes had held her in their thrall.

All she had wanted to do was to throw herself into his arms…to cry on his shoulder and beg him to make her world right again. But then, she had remembered that her world was not the world it had once been and it never would be again. And even Harry Potter, her 'once upon a time' daydream love, could not change that.

Ginny threw another panicked glance to the side; Harry was reflected in the large plate-glass window of the shop she was passing. For a wild moment, she just wanted to stop and stamp her feet and clench her fists and scream at the top of her lungs. And then, almost without her volition, her pace slowed.

_What am I doing? He will follow me for as long as it takes_.

She couldn't race around the streets all night. She had to get out of this cold. The snow was coming down harder now and she was freezing, despite her unaccustomed activity. She wasn't dressed for snow. She had planned to be home much earlier but she had become caught up in her writing.

Why _not_ let Harry see her circumstances now? Why not let him take the tale home to her family? She had run away from them because she knew that they would hold her in utter contempt if they found her out. She knew Ron had been furious with her; she had never known him to be so angry. She just knew he would have told the family…well, told them everything he knew, anyway.

Well, why not let them find out? Then, she would be left alone to get on with her life as best she could. She really didn't have a choice, did she? Harry was not going to give up.

Ginny stood still and watched the few people still on the street as they hurried on their way home, bundled up in clothes a lot more suited to snow than her jeans and jumper. She heard Harry's crunching footsteps stop behind her. She took a deep breath; this was the second hardest thing she had ever had to do in her life. She half turned to face the window; she could not look directly at him.

"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

After a short silence, Harry shook his head. "I can't, Ginny." He sounded regretful, but determined.

Ginny bit her lip then nodded her head once. "Fine."

Without another word, she set off again. Her minute of inactivity had set her teeth chattering violently and she wrapped her arms tightly around her torso. Suddenly, she felt a warm, heavy weight settle over her shoulders. She stopped walking and froze for a couple of seconds before spinning around to face Harry.

He raised his eyebrows at the look of stunned indignation on her face. "You're freezing," he said simply. Before she could object, Harry dragged the strap of her bag off her shoulder and began to thread her arms through the too-long sleeves of his coat as if she was a child.

Automatically, she resisted his efforts. She did not need his coat and she certainly did not need him touching her. "I don't need your coat. You do not have to play the hero!"

Harry ignored her and overlapped the two fronts of the coat. "Indulge me. I know how tough you are, Gin. I know you're a strong, independent woman." He ran his hand impersonally down the length of the outside edge of the coat. "But I'm a gallant Gryffindor, remember?"

When Harry stepped back, the coat stayed fastened tightly around Ginny's slight body. She looked down, flabbergasted. She was wrapped in a cashmere cocoon. She knew that she would not be able to undo the coat until Harry was prepared to let her take it off. The coat had only flapped around his calves but it fell to Ginny's ankles. And it _was_ wonderfully warm. Determined not to show gratitude for his overbearing behaviour, Ginny snatched her bag from where it hung on Harry's wrist and spun away, storming off in high dudgeon.

How dare he! How _bloody_ dare he! Did she ask him for his stupid coat? Well, he could just freeze his bum off for all she cared!

Harry shook his head. "You're welcome," he murmured, following the small, irate bundle of fury.

HPGW

Ginny hurried along for another five minutes with Harry easily keeping pace with her. She did not direct one word at him but maintained a stony, disapproving silence. Harry now walked beside her and he was sure his audacity made her even more irritable. It was pitch black now and the snow was coming down faster. Harry wondered how much further they had to go when, without warning, Ginny swung into the driveway of a large brick house. Harry walked on a few paces before he realised she had veered off course and he quickly back-tracked and followed his guide along the driveway, past the narrow path leading to the front door, and down past the house.

Ginny withdrew a wonderfully warm hand from a coat pocket and thrust it through a hole in a tall wooden gate that closed off the narrow space between a large brick garage with a dormer window set way above the old fashioned wooden doors, and the corner of the house. Harry heard a bolt sliding back and Ginny pushed the gate open, and marched through, leaving Harry to follow and relatch the gate.

Harry blinked as a movement-activated spotlight set on the back wall of the house, blazed with light, illuminating a portion of a neat back yard, specifically the section that contained a concrete path that hugged a narrow flower bed beside the side wall of the garage. Ginny had followed this path and when Harry caught up with her, she had just finished unlocking a side door about halfway along the garage wall. A large window was set next to the door, with another set high above it. On the other side of the door was a high trellis with the bare bones of a winter-denuded climbing rose twisted around its many wooden slats.

Ginny reached her arm through the gap in the open door, and a fluorescent light blinked into life. The garage housed a lovingly maintained royal blue, Ford Sierra Sapphire, taking up pride of place in the middle of an almost pristine concrete floor. There was a shadow board on the back wall holding all the basic household tools, and an extremely neat work bench under it. Harry doubted the work bench had seen any handyman activity for quite some time. Set high in the wall opposite the door, was a long narrow window that would let in more natural light. There was no sign of the dormer window he had seen from the outside; the ceiling of the garage was too low. Harry assumed the dormer was set in a room above the garage.

_She lives above a garage?_

As Harry was scanning the nearly empty space, Ginny was hurrying up a narrow, banistered wooden staircase that hugged the wall; the bottom tread was just to the side of the door. Ginny had disappeared through a door at the top before Harry was halfway up. He finished the ascent and stepped into a small flat.

A quick scan showed him a narrow galley-style kitchen separated from the living area by a bench with a bright yellow laminate top. A small, square dining table with two chairs sat at the end of the bench. The lounge area was taken up with an old fashioned, russet-coloured velour sofa covered with a multi-coloured patchwork, crocheted rug, a television on a faux wood and metal stand, and a long, scratched and pitted pine coffee table. There were three raffia boxes lined up neatly under the table and a fully laden clothes horse sitting next to a gas heater set against the far wall. The room was lovely and warm, and though small and a little shabby, it was cosy, and scrupulously clean and tidy.

Ginny was standing beside the sofa, struggling to get Harry's coat off. Harry shut the door to keep the heat in and immediately he had done this, Ginny stamped her foot and rounded on him.

"Do you mind?" She gestured at the overlapping coat fronts with an impatient hand and Harry grinned disarmingly.

"Sorry about that. But I didn't want you cutting off your nose to spite your face by tearing it off and throwing it back at me. You were freezing." He produced his wand—from where, Ginny wasn't sure—and undid the sticking charm that had kept her enshrouded in the wonderful warmth of softest cashmere. Ginny had never even touched cashmere before, but she wasn't going to let on that she was grateful for the use of the coat because of the high handed manner in which Harry had forced her into it.

After throwing the coat across the sofa arm, Ginny grabbed a towel off the clothes horse before stalking into the kitchen. She picked up the kettle and shook it to determine how full it was. After switching it on, she stood with her back to Harry and started to dry her hair. The usually bright, flame-red locks had darkened considerably with the moisture. Harry watched interestedly as Ginny bent at the waist, flipping her hair forward so that she could rub the length vigorously between her towel covered hands. After about thirty seconds of industrious effort, she straightened and flipped the hair back.

Harry had enjoyed the show and that must have shown when Ginny turned back to face him because she raised her chin to hitherto unknown heights. She knew her hair looked like rat's tails, but she refused to go to the bathroom to run a comb through it. She no longer felt the need to try to impress Harry Potter.

"So, you've seen where I live," she said tersely as she retrieved two mugs from a cupboard and placed them on the bench. "You can see that my accommodations are perfectly adequate and that I am perfectly happy."

Harry thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You live in a flat above a garage, Gin. You're a pure-blood wizard and for some reason, you're living as a Muggle. At least, I presume you're living as a Muggle, as I have yet to see you use any magic."

"Unlike yourself!" said Ginny nastily, glaring at Harry with as much vitriol as she could muster. "Doing magic at every opportunity that presented itself. Doesn't the International Statute of Secrecy apply anymore?"

"It does. But you know very well that the Muggles that were in that café, and the ones on the street, saw nothing that they could not explain.

"Only because you Obliviated them," argued Ginny, hotly.

"I made them forget your untruthful accusation, that's all. They will remember everything else."

Ginny pulled open the small fridge and brought out a carton of milk. When she turned back, Harry saw that her cheeks were red. "If you had just left me alone, I wouldn't have had to resort to lies. Do you still take milk in your tea?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Good memory, Gin."

"Don't call me Gin!" she bit out as she pushed a mug across the bench so hard, some of the liquid slopped over the edge. With a tut of irritation, she grabbed her discarded towel and soaked up the spill. Harry smartly lifted his mug out of the way before it was knocked again.

"You never used to mind 'Gin'," Harry said, walking the few steps to the sofa and sitting down. He nearly spilt his drink himself when his left buttock made contact with something hard hidden under the rug.

Taking his weight on his right buttock, he put his mug on the coffee table and delved beneath the rug. Ginny had gone strangely still and when Harry pulled his prize out, her face was paler than he had yet seen it.

Harry held up a yellow, plastic car with large blue wheels and a big red button on top; Harry pressed the button and the car squeaked. Ginny had sunk into one of the chairs comprising the dining setting and her wide eyes were fixed on the toy. Harry held it up.

"Yours?"

"I…I babysit."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Indeed?"

Ginny's brows drew together. "_Indeed?_" She jumped to her feet and stalked across to Harry and snatched the car from his grip. "Are you channelling Professor Snape?"

"Maybe I am. I see enough of him. And he's still a miserable bastard. But, you will be pleased to hear, now that he no longer has to pander to Voldemort, he no longer has to look the part of the slimy, evil Death Eater. He actually keeps his hair clean now."

Ginny mouth had fallen open. "You still see Snape? Is he still at Hogwarts?"

"He is. Mouldering away in his dungeons, experimenting with potions and writing a weighty tome that he is going to call, 'The Definitive Defence Handbook'. Have you heard that Voldemort is dead?"

Ginny looked cornered. She nodded curtly but rather than look at Harry, she bent down and partly slid one of the raffia boxes forward a little and dropped the car into it. Then she rose and went to retrieve her mug of tea. Still keeping her gaze averted, she took several deep draughts. But when Harry leaned down and pulled another of the baskets out, her head snapped up.

"Do you mind?" she snapped, crossing the small space with agitated steps. Harry was now holding a bright pink ostrich with long, orange rope legs and overlarge orange feet. It had an abundance of long pink feathers for a tail and a coxcomb made out of pink fluff. Ginny snatched this second toy out of Harry's hand and threw it back into the box, shoving it back under the table with her foot.

"You do a lot of babysitting, then?" asked Harry.

"I do enough." Her tone was defensive and she realised this because she took a deep breath and when she next spoke, it was with forced restraint. "So, Harry, what do I have to do to convince you that I am not going to go back with you?"

Harry leaned back and gazed at the agitated young woman before him. Her hair was a total mess but now that it was drying, bright strands of the red glory were separating from the still damp tresses and forming a fiery corona around her head. Ginny saw where his attention was focused and against her will, her hand crept up to smooth the rats-tails.

"What do I have to do to convince you that it would be impossible for me to forget that I have seen you when your family are desperate for word of you?"

Ginny spun away.

"I couldn't live with the guilt, Ginny."

"But you could live with the guilt of knowing that you are disrupting _my_ life."

Harry stared at her hard. "What in the hell has happened to you? You were never heartless and uncaring before." He sprung to his feet and began to pace up and down. "For God's sake Ginny, you parents try to get on with their lives for the sake of your brothers, but there is always something there…something in their eyes. They can't even enjoy their grandchildren as much as they want to because your disappearance haunts them. And the boys aren't much better. They all adored their baby sister too."

A little sob escaped Ginny and she put her hand over her mouth. "Grandchildren?" she whispered through her fingers. Harry could see that her eyes were moist. He knew she was focusing on the part of his story that she knew nothing about, because it was too painful for her to dwell on her parents and brothers.

"You've missed a lot in the time you've been gone. Bill and Fleur still got married when planned; they just didn't have a celebration because they were all still in mourning." Ginny spun away and walked stiffly into the kitchen, but Harry continued remorselessly. "They now have two boys, Guy and Leon. Charlie married one of his fellow dragon-keepers, Devon, and their son, Sam, was born about four weeks ago."

Ginny lowered her head and covered her eyes with a hand. "You're an aunty, Gin, and you will soon have another sister-in-law. Ron and Hermione are getting married on the sixth of January."

Ginny remained hidden behind her slightly shaking hand for well over a minute. Finally, she swallowed and taking a deep breath, she raised her head and looked at Harry. "I'm glad for them," she said in little more than a whisper.

"Not before time," said Harry with a smile.

"Do they still argue?"

Harry grinned. "Constantly. But it's what they do best…well, I suppose they make up pretty effectively too."

Ginny looked like she might grin, but at the last second she turned her back to him. Harry saw her shoulders rise and fall with another deep breath. Suddenly, a strident buzzing noise filled the silence and Ginny started violently. She stared, wide-eyed at the wall near the dining table; Harry saw an intercom that he hadn't noticed before now.

Harry raised his eyebrows in question, but a second long buzz broke Ginny's paralysis and she almost ran to get to the small plastic box.

When she pressed the button, a female voice, slightly distorted by static, immediately said, "You back then, Ginny. Bon…"

Ginny cut the woman off; her voice shaky and louder than it needed. "Yes, Faith, I'm back. I have a visitor, so I'll see you later. Okay?" She released the button before Faith could respond. Harry watched as Ginny squared her shoulders before turning back to face him.

"Tha…that was my landlady. She likes to check that I'm home safe and sound."

"Sort of a surrogate mother?" asked Harry with cruel intent. Ginny's chin wobbled and she looked perilously close to tears, but then she raised that little chin proudly and glared at Harry.

"You might say that. But unlike the real deal, she minds her own business; she doesn't dictate and she doesn't set unattainable goals that she expects her children to aspire to."

Harry's lips set in a thin line. For the first time, he looked angry. "Your mother only ever wanted the best for you. She loved you; still loves you, though it's apparent that you don't deserve that love."

Ginny's arm shook as she pointed towards the door. "Get out!"

Harry swept his coat up and headed for the door. "I'll go. But I'll be back tomorrow, with your parents in tow."

He didn't see the anguish on Ginny's face. "Let them decide if they still want you back."

He clattered down the stairs and had reached to open the side door when Ginny's frantic entreaty came from above. "Harry…_please! _You can't tell them."

Harry's hand dropped and he turned to look up at the thin figure silhouetted in the lighted doorway. Before he could open his mouth to respond, though, the door beside him was thrust open quite violently and hit Harry in the shoulder. Harry swore and grabbed his upper arm, turning to automatically berate whomever had nearly knocked him into the middle of next week.

He never uttered an admonishment though. A middle-aged woman carrying a large bundle hurried over the threshold, her head bent against the now driving snow, and one hand holding a mackintosh in place over the top of the bundle.

Several things happened at once. The woman said an impatient, 'sorry' to Harry. Ginny, who had silently and rapidly descended the stairs, buffeted him out of the way so that he staggered sideways into the garage; she then reached for the bundle which wriggled and squirmed, and a quavery little voice from under the waterproof cover, said, "Mummy.".

The woman released the talking, squirming bundle into Ginny's arms, saying as she did so that she was sorry, but Bonnie had a slight fever and wanted Mummy and that it was obvious that she wasn't going to settle. The mackintosh slipped and Harry stared, his mouth open in shock as a tiny girl with white-blonde hair wriggled her arms free so that she could cling like a limpet to Ginny. Ginny held her close and rocked her from side to side, her mouth against the silky hair, where she bestowed tiny little kisses between whispered words of comfort.

'Mummy' eventually raised her eyes and glared challengingly at Harry. She thanked the woman—Faith, Harry assumed—and without another word, she turned on her heel and headed back upstairs. Faith nodded tersely at him and sallied forth into the driving snow, slamming the heavy door behind her. Harry was left standing alone, staring after Ginny and the child who appeared to be her daughter.

Harry was in shock. He shook his head to try and clear it, and then not having any other choice, he ascended the stairs again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **As per my home page.

**From Before:**

_'Mummy' eventually raised her eyes and glared challengingly at Harry. She thanked the woman—Faith, Harry assumed—and without another word, she turned on her heel and headed back upstairs. Faith nodded tersely at him and sallied forth into the driving snow, slamming the heavy door behind her. Harry was left standing alone, staring after Ginny and the child who appeared to be her daughter._

_Harry was in shock. He shook his head to try and clear it, and then not having any other choice, he ascended the stairs again. _

Chapter 3

At the top of the stairs, Harry found the door was shut, but thankfully not locked. Ginny had known he would follow her; she had had the good sense to realise that he wouldn't let a locked door prevent him entry back into her home.

Harry reluctantly pushed the door shut behind him, glad even after only the few minutes he had been in the freezing cold garage, to be back in the cosy warmth of the flat. He was not looking forward to the coming conversation, but he knew that there was no way that he could leave to inform the Weasleys that he had found their daughter and sister, and spring the presence of a granddaughter and niece on them without knowing the little girl's history.

Harry sighed as he bent to pick up the mackintosh that had been hung up clumsily and had fallen off a coat hook attached to the wall near the door. If the truth was known, he was burning with curiosity himself… and something more. The desire to find out the paternity of this child was already eating away at him but that curiosity was tinged with… what… regret? Sadness?

Ginny Weasley, the bright-eyed, fiery-haired little girl he had first seen at King's Cross Station just over nine years ago, and who was a year younger than him, was a mother. She had been a mother by the looks of her daughter for three odd years. Harry was no child expert, but the quick glimpse he had had of the little girl before she had buried her head against Ginny, made him think she was older than Guy, who would be two in January. Guy was at least as big as this child, but Harry thought this little one looked more mature.

With a sense of unease, and knowing that there was no way that he was going to avoid upsetting Ginny, Harry turned to face the sitting-room. He was rubbing the back of his neck uneasily but he stopped when he saw that Ginny wasn't in the room. It was only a second before he saw that a door in the wall behind the sofa stood ajar and he could hear Ginny's quiet, comforting voice as she crooned to her daughter.

Without stopping to think, Harry crossed to the door and slowly pushed it open. He did not enter the room, but stood and watched Ginny as she sat sideways on a single bed, one leg bent on the covers, dressing her grizzling daughter. The child stood on the bed in nothing but a singlet, her little bottom bare, holding onto her mother's shoulders for balance while she lifted first one tiny leg and then the other as Ginny dressed her in a pair of pink fleecy pyjama pants with Tinkerbell dotted all over them.

Ginny saw Harry immediately and other than a brief flash of something in her chocolate eyes that could have been anger or—was it his imagination—anguish, she said in the same tone with which she had been speaking to the child, "Will you wait in the other room?"

She did not draw her daughter's attention to the stranger in their midst—the child's back was to the door—and Harry, not wanting to cause the little girl to become anymore upset, moved away from the door.

It was about fifteen minutes before Ginny left the bedroom. All was now quiet; the child had obviously settled. Harry was in the kitchen, leaning forward with his hands clasping the edge of the bench; he watched as Ginny slowly shut the door and crossed the small sitting-room to stand opposite him on the other side of the bench. Harry straightened and pushed one of two mugs filled with steaming tea towards her.

Ginny stood for a second, her arms wrapped tightly around her thin torso and her hands gripping handfuls of the horrible green jumper. She didn't look at Harry, but kept her eyes fixed on the closest mug. She stayed perfectly still for a minute before unclasping one hand and reaching out for the tea. She wrapped the other hand around the cup, the too-long sleeve of her jumper shielding her skin from the hot china.

Ginny turned away and walked to the sofa. She did not sit down but stood facing the bedroom door, sipping the tea. Harry remained silent, standing in the kitchen, the bench an island, separating them. He could tell how tense she was by the set of her shoulders; he would leave it up to her to break the silence.

She didn't. Not for several minutes; the only sound was Ginny taking noisy little sips of the very hot drink. Finally, Harry saw her square her shoulders and he prepared himself for whatever she had to say. She turned around to face him. Something inside Harry's chest expanded to the size of a brick. He looked at Ginny standing there, trying to look brave and defiant, but actually looking like she would like nothing better than to be able to climb into a hole and pretend that he had never seen her in that café. She had always been tiny, but now, she just looked so fragile… like spun glass… easily shattered. She looked like a little girl. Way, way too young to be a mother.

"So Harry," said Ginny, trying to look and sound nonchalant but not fooling Harry for an instant, "do you think that my mother would still welcome me home with open arms if I had my daughter in my arms and no wedding ring on my finger?"

Harry frowned. He knew that Molly was a very moralistic person who had always been ultra-strict with her children. The boys had all been very careful never to flaunt the real state of their relationships with their various girlfriends anywhere around their mother. Molly was happy thinking that her sons were virtuous young men… thinking that they were all innocent until they had put a wedding ring on their girlfriends' fingers.

Yes, she was naïve –or else she was just very good at burying her head in the sand. Harry had noticed over his years of living in the wizarding world that it did not move as quickly as the Muggle world did with its lax moral attitude of the last forty or fifty years.

Magical couples did not live openly together before they were married. That was not to say though, that most young wizarding couples didn't do what their Muggle counterparts did, and with enthusiasm… they just accepted the need to keep their sexual exploits clandestine.

Harry had seen first-hand the lengths that Ron and Hermione went to, to keep Molly in the dark as to the level of their intimacy. Ron lived with Harry at twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Hermione still officially lived with her parents. Most of the time though, Hermione stayed at Grimmauld Place.

Harry had given Ron and Hermione the master-suite and Hermione had been able to use a small, old-fashioned dressing room for her belongings; she locked it with a very complicated charm. Molly had checked out Ron's bedroom when he had first moved in and Harry had told her that he didn't know what the door led to, and that no one had ever been able to open it. Molly had expressed surprise that Ron had the master-suite but Harry had told her he was perfectly happy with Sirius's old room, and Ron had told his mother that he had chosen the big room because his bedroom at the Burrow had been so small and this was a real novelty for him.

The master-suite had never been used whilst the Order had made use of Grimmauld Place and the Weasleys had lived there.

Harry had felt bad about pulling the wool over Molly's eyes and Ron and Hermione had also expressed guilt. But Ron figured as long as his mother was happy in her ignorance, then their subterfuge wasn't hurting anyone. Ron was not willing to give up his sex life now that he finally had one, and it would not matter to Molly that Hermione was just as happy with the arrangement as her fiancé was.

Yes, Harry realised that Molly had always been very strict with her children… and now that he thought about it, perhaps more so with her only daughter. But Harry was absolutely convinced that Molly would want her daughter back, even if she was encumbered with quadruplets, born outside the sanctity of marriage.

"Yes," he finally said, "I do."

Ginny stared at him incredulously. She opened her mouth, but was apparently too flabbergasted to get any words out. She lowered herself onto the sofa and raised the cup to her mouth again. Harry saw that her hand was shaking slightly.

"Ginny, your mother aside, you must surely know that your father would never, _never _reject you, no matter what you had done," said Harry.

Ginny shook her head. A little tea slopped over the side of her mug but she just transferred the cup to her other hand and wiped the moisture off on her jeans. "Dad just goes along with Mum," she whispered, her voice thick.

Harry picked up one of the dining chairs and carried it into the living room; he put it down far enough away from Ginny not to spook her. He knew if he sat on the couch, she would not like it; she was as skittish as an unbroken horse.

Harry took a deep breath. "Gin… you ran away at the end of your fifth year..."

Ginny wrapped her other hand tightly around her mug; her knuckles were white. She was becoming more nervous and upset; this subject seemed to be even more distressing to her than the subject of her family.

"You and Dean Thomas were an item for most of that year." Harry paused, worried about how blunt he was going to sound. He took another deep breath. "But somehow I don't think Dean is your daughter's father."

Ginny jumped up and stalked into the kitchenette, determined, it seemed, to keep as much space between them as she could. She turned on the tap very hard and began to wash her mug with much more attention than it warranted. Harry sighed; he felt like he was walking on eggshells, but he couldn't stop now. He stood up and followed her into the kitchenette where she was now trying to wash the pattern off the china.

Harry reached past her and turned the tap off. Ginny went rigid for a moment, but then her head and shoulders drooped and she just stood immobile, her hands still holding the mug. Harry took the mug out of her unresisting hands and placed it in the disdrainer, then he hooked a tea-towel, turned an unresisting Ginny around and thrust it into her wet hands.

Harry put his hands on Ginny's thin shoulders and bent down slightly so that they were eye to eye. "Talk to me Ginny."

Ginny just stared into the green eyes that she had fantasised about since she was ten years old. Why had those beautiful eyes never seen her though –seen her in a romantic light? She knew she had been reasonably attractive back when her life had been relatively care-free… back in the days when her biggest worry had been why Harry Potter was indifferent to her charms.

Well, he seemed to be interested in her now, but for all the wrong reasons. He was interested in her because she was necessary to make her family whole and content again. She was Ginny Weasley, one of the Weasley clan –not allowed to be a separate entity, even if it was her wish to be so.

"You're wrong Harry," said Ginny, her voice flat. "My mother would never live down the shame of having a granddaughter born on the wrong side of the blanket."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ginny shook her head a little wildly and pushed past him. When she had put the bench between them again, she spun around to face him, her arms spread wide, her palms uppermost. "Please allow me to know my mother better than you do, Harry. I grew up with her." She drooped, pulling the ratty cuffs of her sleeves down over her hands before crossing her arms defensively over her chest again, her shoulders hunched. "I was always expected to be the perfect daughter. She set the boys up as spies when I went to Hogwarts. Percy revelled in it. I think he wrote home at least every second day to report on me."

"What did he have to report on?" asked Harry. You were practically invisible, you were so quiet."

"I might just as well have beeninvisible," muttered Ginny bitterly, turning away from the object of her old heartache. In a louder voice, she said, "He didn't have any bad behaviour to report on because I was a good little girl in first year. Of course, Tom Riddle was leaching the life out of me, so that might have accounted for that." She threw herself dejectedly down onto the sofa.

"Mum's heart-rending sobs in McGonagall's office after the Chamber of Secrets was not the end of it, believe me. Oh, don't get me wrong. She _was_ devastated and her relief when I walked through the door was real. I know that Mum loves me, Harry, but she expects higher standards from me than parents have a right to expect from their children.

"When I got home at the end of term, I think the first two weeks of the holidays were taken up with angry lectures about how foolish I had been. And when she had run out of admonishments, I got the air of icy disapproval and disappointment. And this continued the whole time we were in Egypt. I had a miserable time.

"Dad tried to step in on my behalf once or twice, but that only led to Mum giving _him_ the silent treatment."

Harry didn't know what to think. He had had no idea that any of this had happened. He found it very hard to believe, but Ginny obviously believed it. There had to be something there as far as Ginny was concerned, because she had run away from her whole family rather than wait to be kicked out by her mother when she discovered that her daughter had committed the unforgivable sin of falling pregnant in her mid-teens.

Harry decided to change tack. "Does the father know he has a daughter?"

Ginny stiffened and turned away; she stared fixedly at the garments hanging on the coat hooks. Harry saw a muscle working in her jaw. "You don't have to get all indignant on the father's behalf, believe me, Harry. The _father _would have absolutely no interest in knowing he has a daughter."

"How can you possibly know that?" asked Harry, feeling slightly miffed on behalf of the unknown man who did not know he had a child; who had never had the opportunity to acknowledge his daughter.

"Because," Ginny hissed venomously as she spun around and advanced on Harry so that he fell back a step, "_I_ am Bonnie's mother, and my family are Gryffindors and blood-traitors."

Harry's eyes widened, but not as much as Ginny's did. Her face also became paler than it already was; she looked absolutely horrified and she rushed into agitated speech. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Harry. Please, I beg of you, do not tell my family that you have found me."

"Ginny, how, in all conscience, can I not?"

Ginny took Harry's hand in both of hers and pulled it to her chest. "I know that you look on the Weasleys as family, Harry, and you would feel like you were betraying their trust if you do not tell them." Ginny's eyes were pleading as she gazed directly into Harry's. "But I am a Weasley too, and you will be betraying me if you don't do as I ask."

Harry felt his face heat when Ginny had grasped his hand in desperate supplication. He tried to speak past his swollen tongue but Ginny rushed on. "Harry, I ran away to spare myself the heartache of having my mother cast me aside. If she casts me aside now, my daughter will also be cast aside and she will not understand why she is being rejected."

Harry pulled his hand out of Ginny's strangely hot grasp and turned away. All of a sudden, he felt unsettled standing so close to her. What she was asking would be almost impossible for him, but nor could he ignore her final words.

He could not believe that Molly would reject her daughter after the long years of wondering what had happened to her and being afraid that she was probably dead. But after what Ginny had told him this evening, could he take the chance? No, not when an innocent child could be hurt along the way.

Silence held court for several minutes as Harry paced back and forth, his head lowered in thought. Ginny watched him anxiously. When Harry finally faced her, her eyes were wide pools of fear and hope.

"I won't say anything…" Ginny's wan face lit up. "But…"

The happiness dimmed a little. "But what?"

"But _I_ am not going to go away, Gin. I will keep coming around and I will keep chipping away at your stubborn hide, or pride, or whatever is keeping you away from your family."

Ginny's lips had pursed in a disgruntled line. But instead of the diatribe Harry was expecting, Ginny heaved a deep sigh before walking into the kitchenette and opening a cupboard. "I didn't think I'd get rid of you that easily, Potter." She turned around, her hands grasping two tins which she held up for Harry's inspection. "Baked beans on toast, okay?"

Harry blinked. Ginny raised a shapely auburn eyebrow. "You hadn't eaten before you accosted me in the café, had you?"

"Err… nooo_._"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Sorry I can't offer you anything else." Ginny had pulled a can-opener from a drawer and was concentrating on fitting it to the edge of one of the tins."

Harry hurried forward and put a hand over the top of the tin, halting the delicate operation. Ginny looked up, a crease forming between her brows. "What? Baked beans not good enough?"

Harry ignored the jibe. "I'm sure you couldn't have forgotten that I love baked beans. I ate them regularly in your presence at the Burrow, and at Hogwarts."

"Well…" said Ginny, looking pointedly at Harry's obstructive hand.

"I've got a better idea," he said. As you weren't expecting a guest for Saturday dinner, I think I should treat you. How does fish and chips sound?"

"But…"

"No," Harry said. "I insist. I know we passed a fish and chip shop on the way here."

"But that's ten minutes away. They'd be cold before you got back with them."

Harry shook his head. "Ah, Ginny… you might have forgotten you're a witch, but I haven't forgotten I'm a wizard." Ginny's mouth dropped open as Harry spun around and Disapparated with a soft pop. Her mouth had only just closed when another pop announced his reappearance. She gave a little squeak of fright and immediately looked angry with herself.

"Sorry," said Harry. "But will Bonnie be wanting anything to eat?"

Ginny was taken aback, but she immediately wondered why she should be. She remembered that Harry Potter was unerringly kind and thoughtful. It would be perfectly normal for him to consider the needs of a child he had had no knowledge of two hours ago.

"No. Faith gave her an early dinner." Ginny sighed. "I doubt she ate much. She usually doesn't when she's unwell." Before Harry could say anything else, Ginny added, "She won't wake up again… not for food anyway."

Harry Disapparated again.

~HPGW~

Harry pushed the front door of number twelve, Grimmauld place closed and leaned back against it. He was exhausted. The evening had been fraught, and though the meal he had shared with Ginny had been reasonably free of tension, the outcome of their totally unexpected meeting and its ensuing shocks had not ended as he had hoped it would. He did not know how he was going to keep the secret of Ginny's return to the land of the living from the Weasleys…especially Ron. But he had promised her, and all he could hope was that he would eventually be able to convince her to reunite with her family. If nothing else, Bonnie deserved to know her family; she deserved to have a share of her grandparents' love. Not to mention her uncles' love and the companionship of her cousins.

"Harry."

Harry started. He looked up to see Ron standing on the second bottom stair.

"What the hell are you standing there, holding up the door for?"

Harry pushed himself away and advanced along the hallway, the bright blue and scarlet Persian carpet runner muffling his footsteps. There was not a single free-standing item in the narrow hallway to trip any unwary visitors, the walls were painted a delicate eggshell blue and not one single painting on the wall was animated; they were all Muggle-painted, country scenes, bucolic and restful in their repetitive verdancy. No one could blame Harry for his taste in artwork. The horrors that used to line the hallway and the staircase had long been relegated to the heart of a magically enhanced fire. They had been burned to ashes, Mrs Black's screams of outrage lasting until the last lick of paint had melted from her twisted and hateful features.

"Just tired," was Harry's response to Ron's enquiry. He tramped past Ron, who followed his best friend up the stairs.

"I thought you were going to be back for dinner. Did you eat with Dudley, then?"

"Err, yeah. Actually, I did." Harry kept his face averted from Ron; he couldn't look him in the eye because Ron could read him as well as Harry could read Ron. "Amanda asked Dudley to invite me to dinner. I didn't think I could refuse."

"Fun night, was it?" asked Ron, as he poured a small measure of Harry's favourite bedtime tipple—oak-matured mead—into a glass and handed it to his mate who had sunk into his favourite chair. "Does Dudley's future wife know about your deep, dark secret yet?"

"No, Ron, she doesn't," said Harry exasperatedly. "And there's really no reason for her to know yet. There's no guarantee that Dudley and Amanda will marry, so she isn't family yet."

"_Family_!" Ron snorted derisively into his own glass of fire-whisky.

"Yes, Ron, _family_. The only member of my family who treats me like family."

"Rather late coming to the realisation that he has a cousin…"

"I don't want to hear it Ron, okay! We'll agree to disagree on the subject of Dudley Dursley."

"You're too bloody forgiving, Harry. You always have been," said Ron, seemingly unable to curb his runaway tongue. At the look Harry threw at him though, Ron's ears turned red and he looked away. The look reminded Ron that Harry had forgiven _him_ more than one transgression.

"Is Hermione staying with her mum and dad tonight?" Ron gratefully allowed the change of subject and he and Harry conversed desultorily for fifteen minutes and then Harry took himself off to bed, where he lay awake for a long time, wondering how he was going to get through lunch at the Burrow tomorrow with his new knowledge of Ginny and her daughter clouding all of his interactions with the family he cared for as if they were his own.

He finally fell asleep vowing to reunite Ginny with her family if it was the last thing he did. He would haunt her until she had to give in. He would make her wish that she had never turned her back on the wizarding world. It could not have been easy for her to give up magic; he knew she had been quite a powerful young witch. But when she ran away, she had had to turn her back on magic as well as her family because the magical community in Britain was too small for someone to be able to hide themself away successfully.

Yes, Ginny Weasley needed her family and she needed to return to her heritage. And Harry couldn't explain to himself why it was so very important that she become part of _his_ life again.

His dreams that night were a giddying montage of flashes of Ginny Weasley from the first time he had seen her on platform nine and three-quarters as she had run along beside the train, through his memories of the little girl at the Burrow and her first year at Hogwarts… her immobile, pale body lying on the damp floor of the Chamber of Secrets, and her unappeasable distress when she thought she would be expelled. The memories sped past in rapid sequence, showing Ginny growing up, her features maturing into a soft beauty, her titian hair becoming longer and her body ripening. He saw her happy, sad, pensive, quiet, mischievous and distressed. These memories of the younger Ginny became overlain with the image of the too-thin, wan young woman he had found that day, her soft beauty still discernible behind the world-weary features; her anger, mistrust and distress morphing into the loving expression that had spread over her face when she had looked at her child.

In a short period of wakefulness, all of these incarnations of Ginny were still fresh in Harry's mind, and he vowed, as he fell asleep again, that he would turn the sad young mother back into the happy and carefree girl he had once known and only now realised how much he had missed.

**TBC: **_I hope you all enjoyed it. It goes without saying that I would love some feed back._

_Lesley~  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Bonnie and the plot are the only things that are mine. You know who the rest belong to. I am just doing this for my own entertainment, and I hope, others as well. I am definitely not making any money from my scribbling.

Chapter 4

"_Harry!_" Harry jerked in his chair, some of the untouched butterbeer in the bottle he held, slopping over his hand. The crease between his eyebrows was an indication of his irritation as he glared at Hermione and wiped his wet hand on the leg of his jeans.

"_What!_" he bit out, his irritated tone dragging Ron's attention away from the chess board more effectively than Hermione's sharp one. Ron was so used to Hermione speaking to both him and Harry as if they were recalcitrant children, it was like water off a duck's back.

"What is the matter with you?" asked Hermione of Harry, her own brows lowered in a frown. "I have been trying to get your attention for five minutes."

"Couldn't have been trying very hard," grumbled Harry, taking a long pull on his bottle and leaning forward to stare at the chess board, hoping that he at least _looked_ interested in the game. Although his level of skill had improved steadily over the years as a result of the innumerable games he had played with Ron, it was still not good enough to defeat his friend. He had though—on the very odd occasion—given him a run for his money. This evening was not one of those times. He was losing spectacularly and had even lost track of whose turn it was. Hence Hermione's sharp call to order.

She had been watching the game in between pages of the book she was reading; Ron was too intent on working out his next play to dwell on how long Harry was taking to make his move. Hermione however, had read a whole chapter of 'The Superior Witch and Wizard –Are We Really?', and as the chapter had been eighteen pages long, that was a considerable amount of time for Harry to sit immobile and staring into space.

"You haven't made a move for over fifteen minutes," Hermione informed him.

"Are you reading or watching the game?" asked Harry, a lingering trace of annoyance in his voice. He reached out a hand and moved his remaining knight; even the outraged screeches of the mounted white paladin, did not alert Harry to his gaff; it was only after he had removed his hand and Ron looked at him with his bright eyebrows hiked up under his fringe that Harry saw he had freed Ron's bishop which, when Ron moved it, would checkmate his king.

Harry couldn't bring himself to care as his king threw its crown at Ron's bishop's feet. "Bravo!" he said to Ron with, he hoped, some semblance of _savoir faire. _In truth, he was just glad the game was had only agreed to play because he had felt Ron and Hermione looking at him with concern over the last several days; he knew they were talking about his distraction and he knew he was making a poor job of hiding his secrets.

Harry stood up and reached for Ron's empty butterbeer bottle and Hermione's empty mug which he hooked by the handle. "Anyone for hot chocolate before bed?" he asked.

"Sure," said Hermione, answering for Ron as well, and as Harry left the room, he was aware of their worried gazes drilling into his back. As soon as he shut the door, he could hear their low, worried voices.

This was so much harder than he had thought it would be. It was hard enough keeping things from the rest of the family –he didn't see them every day, but it was so much more difficult when he was living with Ron and Hermione. The three of them had never kept any real secrets from one another –until now. And what a secret.

In the kitchen, Harry put a pan of milk on the burner before pulling out a chair and slumping down onto it. He leaned his elbows on the scrubbed pine table and rubbed his face, pushing his glasses askew. He pulled them off and threw them carelessly onto the table before leaning back and rubbing a hand through his unruly hair. He was so bloody tired. He hadn't been sleeping well since he had found Ginny. And it wasn't just guilt that kept him awake.

Ginny Weasley had grown into a beautiful woman despite the fact that she was way too thin. Now, with his hormones sitting up and panting, Harry wondered where in the hell his head had been when he and Ginny had been at school together. He had known back then how cute she was; but it was an abstract observation. From his third year through his fifth, his libido had been solely focused on Cho Chang. And in his sixth year, girls had not been high on his agenda of things to worry about. If he had thought about Ginny at all, it had been, he supposed, much as Ron thought about her… as a little sister. He couldn't have cared for Ron more if he was a brother, so it stood to reason that he looked on Ginny as a sister. He had lived in the same house as her often enough; he had seen her just after she had crawled out of bed, in her nightie or pyjamas, with her hair a tousled mess. He had seen her just after she had left the bathroom after a shower, her long hair piled on top of her head and her skin soft and rosy and luminous.

Harry groaned and dropped his head onto the table, his forehead making an audible thump. The thought of that beautiful red hair looking like a fiery aureole around Ginny's head was definitely a sight that would stir him up now, even more than the smooth curtain of red-gold strands that had first attracted his attention at the coffee-shop, or the dishevelled wet mass of it that had darkened to titian back at the flat after they had been caught in the snow.

It had been ten days since he had first seen Ginny in that coffee shop, and he had seen her every day since, if only for half an hour or so. Harry only wished that Ginny was becoming as accepting of his presence as Bonnie was. He was rather chuffed at his ability to charm the three year old; he only wished he was as adept with a certain nineteen year old. Still, Harry had high hopes of eventually softening Ginny through his interactions with her daughter. That was a definite goal, but Harry had to admit that the little girl had managed, in a few short days, to wrap him around her tiny finger.

"Harry?"

Harry sighed and lifted his head to peer blearily at Hermione.

She was looking past him to the stove and with a tut of exasperation and an, "_Oh, Harry –what in heaven's name is wrong with you?_" as she crossed the flagstones and turned the burner on under the pan of milk. She turned and leaned back against the bench, her arms crossed and her glare fixed firmly on Harry.

"Tired," he said by way of explanation for his forgetfulness, but if he was hoping that one word was enough to distract a determined Hermione, he was sadly mistaken. Her glare became even fiercer.

Harry picked up his glasses and hauled himself to his feet. "On second thought, I think I'll forgo the drink and head straight to bed. See you tomorrow."

"_Sit!_"

Harry heaved a put upon sigh. "_Hermione_...!"

Hermione stepped forward and placed her hands on Harry's shoulders, pushing him back onto the chair. "We need to talk."

"You got the short straw, did you?"

"What is going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Liar!"

"_Nothing is going on!_"

Hermione closed her eyes, raising her face to the ceiling. "Harry, you are a terrible liar. We know that there's something going on with you. We just don't understand why you won't tell us. You never keep anything from us."

Harry stood again, forcing Hermione back a step. He pulled her towards him by placing a hand behind her head and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Stop trying to be my mother," he said softly. "Not everything has to be talked about, Hermione. I don't ask for chapter and verse about you and Ron. Give me the same courtesy. Okay?"

A supremely frustrated Hermione watched as Harry left the kitchen. She wilted, but perked up immediately when he poked his head back around the door. Had he changed his mind?

"You'd better turn off the gas."

"_Oh!_" Hermione spun back to the stove just as the boiling milk overflowed. "_Damn, damn, damn!_"

~GWHP~

Ginny was sitting on the living-room floor helping her daughter put together a giant jigsaw puzzle, when she heard an echoing _pop_ from within the garage below. Bonnie, who was in the process of fitting a puzzle piece, immediately went on the alert, lifting her face to her mother, her brown eyes shining with excitement and her two little hands covering her mouth to hold in a squeal of delight.

""Harry's here!" came the muffled words from behind the hands. Bonnie jumped up and ran to the dining table where she pulled a chair out and pulled it towards the door on the other side of the room. Ginny heard the by now familiar footsteps on the wooden stairs as she watched her determined daughter enable herself to open the door.

"Bonnie!" said Ginny, her tone gently admonishing. "What are the rules?"

"Not to open the door," pouted Bonnie. She looked at her mother with wide, beseeching eyes. "But Mummy, it's Harry. He always pops when he gets here." Bonnie saw the frustrated indecision in her mother's eyes and knew that Ginny was not going to put her foot down at this moment; she continued to position the chair in just the right place so that she could climb on it and turn the doorknob, but allow the door to open without banging into the chair. She had the operation down to a fine art. She did not, however, press her luck by climbing onto the chair without her mother's final say-so.

The expected knock sounded and Ginny watched as her excited daughter bounced up and down impatiently, her eyes begging for permission to admit her new hero. Ginny sighed. Her own heart-rate had increased when she had heard Harry Apparate into the garage. He never appeared directly in her flat for which she was profoundly grateful; she knew it was not the done thing in the wizarding world, and Harry was nothing if not rigidly strict with himself when it came to observing other people's comfort zones. He was also totally aware that Bonnie knew nothing of magic.

Ginny always took a minute to collect herself when her frequent and unwelcome visitor arrived –to cultivate the indifference it was so important she show to the presence of Harry Potter in her home. Just as he had always been indifferent to her presence at school, and at the Burrow when he had stayed there.

Bonnie couldn't wait any longer –without waiting for her mother's actual say-so, she clambered onto the chair and reached forward to turn the doorknob. "Harry!" she cried, launching herself into Harry's arms when he stepped into the room. Harry had heard the chair being dragged across the floor, so he was ready for the tiny missile. His arms closed around the little bundle of energy and cuddled her close to his chest. Bonnie took Harry's face between her hands and grinned at him, her teeth shining like tiny pearls.

"Hiya, kewpie," he said, bouncing the little girl in his arms. "Have you been a good girl for Mummy?"

Bonnie nodded her blonde head fervently. "I helped Mummy dry the dishes and make the beds."

Harry raised his eyebrows in apparent admiration. He half turned to close the door. "Excellent! Mummy must be really happy that you're such a big girl and can help her so much."

"I've been helping Mummy for ever and ever," corrected Bonnie. "Since I was really little."

Harry's eyes found Ginny in the kitchenette where she was filling the kettle. "Lucky Mummy," he said, _sotto voce_.

"Yes," said Ginny in the slightly frosty tone that she always employed when Harry first arrived. "Mummy _is_ lucky. She can rely on Bonnie and Bonnie can rely on Mummy."

Harry sat Bonnie down on the bench, and began to tickle her. "Mummy doesn't only have to rely on Bonnie anymore," he said, under cover of the childish giggles that filled the air.

Ginny heard him but she didn't respond; she turned her back on Harry and Bonnie to remove two mugs from the overhead cupboard. How she wished that what he said was true. How she wished she had someone to lean on. She knew that Harry was saying that she could rely on him, but she couldn't allow herself that luxury. Harry would only be this solicitous of her until he had convinced her to contact her family.

Harry sighed and turned his full attention on Bonnie, who was chattering away, mindless of the tension that had gripped her mother. She threw herself at Harry again so that he could lower her to the floor, where she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the partially completed puzzle taking up a fair amount of floor space to the side of the coffee table.

"Hang on kewpie, while I hang my coat up." Ginny watched through her eyelashes as Harry took off his cashmere overcoat and beautiful green woollen scarf and hung them on a hook near the door, amidst the colourful but second-hand and oh, so slightly tatty parkers, hats, and scarves that belonged to her and Bonnie. The coat looked like a magnificent Hippogriff in an enclosure of colourful Pygmy Puffs.

Ginny continued to watch as Harry lithely threw himself down on the floor beside Bonnie, following his every move as her hands were busy preparing the drinks. He wore a faded pair of jeans and an emerald green, round-necked jumper that Ginny recognised as being knitted by her mother. It was the colour she had usually favoured for Harry as it bought out the green of his eyes, and in deference to his age, Ginny presumed, there was no longer a large motif in the middle of the front. Rather, there were tiny little snitches incorporated around the whole of the band and the cuffs.

Ginny put the carton of milk down and gripped the edge of the bench; the hand-knitted jumper was the most tangible reminder of her mother that she had seen since she had left the wizarding world. It made her realise, as nothing else could have, exactly what her baby daughter had missed out on… a beautiful, hand-knitted layette and shawls. It also made her realise that as much as she had rolled here eyes every year when putting on her Weasley jumper, she now missed the tradition more than she could have believed possible. She was a fair knitter herself—her mother had taught her after all—and Bonnie had some lovely knitwear, but she was missing out on something special having never had an offering from her grandmother.

Ginny forced her eyes away from Harry and forced the image of her mother knitting to the back of her mind –it was reluctant to go, but Ginny finished making the tea and placed Harry's cup and the very weak concoction she had prepared for Bonnie, along with a plate of shortbread, on the coffee table. She ignored Harry's thank you and avoided making eye contact with him again as she hurried back around the bench.

She pulled some mince from the refrigerator and proceeded to cobble together a spaghetti sauce for dinner that night. After several minutes filled with Bonnie's little-girl chatter and Harry's deeper voice, she surreptitiously raised her eyes and watched the interaction between her daughter and Harry. He was patience personified, allowing Bonnie to fit the pieces and guiding her movements gently when one or another piece proved reluctant to go into its correct position because the tiny hands were not entirely coordinated.

Finally the puzzle was completed and Harry and Bonnie sat up to drink their tea and eat a shortbread each. Harry expressed his own pleasure in the scene after Bonnie had expressed her delight in rapturous tones. The fairytale scene depicted a beautiful unicorn standing in a verdant forest glade liberally strewn with wildflowers. A picturesque waterfall in the background covered the scene in a fine mist that made it look as if you were seeing everything through a diaphanous curtain. Bonnie was enraptured.

"I've seen a unicorn," Harry informed Bonnie who stared at him with wide- eyed wonder.

"Really?" she breathed, reverentially.

"Uh huh," said Harry, nodding. He felt Ginny's disapproval radiating across the room, but he didn't let it put him off; he continued with his tale. He was determined that he would get some kind of response from her today, even if it was an angry one instead of standoffish silence or terse answers to uncontroversial questions. When you were angry, you were more likely to let something you didn't want known, slip.

"They really are that beautiful, but the babies are even more beautiful. The babies are gold."

"Gold like the ball that the princess in 'the Frog Prince' has?" breathed Bonnie.

Harry nodded solemnly. "Yep. Just like that. They turn white when they are about your age…three."

"I'm not free yet," said Bonnie. "My birfday isn't until next year. Just after Christmas."

"In January?"

Bonnie paused, then looked at her mother enquiringly. "My birfday is in Janwery, isn't it Mummy?"

Ginny was stirring the spaghetti sauce and Harry could see how tense her shoulders had become. It was obvious that she wasn't comfortable even giving away the date of Bonnie's birthday. But he knew that she had to answer Bonnie; there was no excuse that she could offer the little girl not to.

"Yes, Bonnie, your birthday is January the eleventh." Harry could tell that it was an effort for Ginny to keep her tone light and airy.

Bonnie turned her shining eyes to Harry again. "Janwery levenf," she said importantly. The little girl sighed. "I wish I could turn gold on my fird birfday, Harry."

Harry took a lock of Bonnie's pale hair between finger and thumb and gave it a playful tug. "No, no, no!" Bonnie giggled and wriggled sideways until she had insinuated herself onto Harry's lap. "I happen to like hair that is the colour of moonbeams much more than I like golden baby unicorns.

"Really?" asked Bonnie.

"Really," assured Harry.

"Do you like Mummy's hair too?"

Harry looked across the room, noting that Ginny had stopped stirring the sauce, though she was still holding the wooden spoon over the saucepan. "I do...very much," said Harry. "I know a lot of –er, people who have hair the colour of your mummy's.

Bonnie sighed again. "I wish my hair was the same as Mummy's. It's nice and warm."

"Your hair is beautiful, just like Mummy's hair is."

"Do you know people with my colour hair too, Harry?"

Harry kept his eyes on Ginny, very interested in her reaction to his next words. "That exact colour of moonbeams... only a few."

Ginny slammed the spoon down onto a plate on the bench; Harry saw the tiled wall become anointed with a fair splattering of tomato sauce. "It's time for your nap, Bonnie," she said, rounding the bench and planting herself in front of Harry and Bonnie, her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive posture.

"But Mummy..."

"No buts, miss. You were awake early this morning, so you are definitely ready for a nap."

Bonnie looked crestfallen, but in the blink of an eye, she had spun around on Harry's lap to face him, scooting onto her knees and taking Harry's face in her small hands again. Harry tried to hide his grimace of pain but he could not prevent himself from tensing as those pointy little knees came very close to a sensitive part of his anatomy. With delicate care, he repositioned them further down his thighs. He sensed rather than saw Ginny smirk. "Will you be here when I wake up, Harry? You can have s'getti with us."

Harry glanced up at Ginny and raised his eyebrows, rather pleased to be able to put her on the spot. Ginny glared back, her look indisputably challenging. But Harry hadn't been a Gryffindor for nothing "If it's all right with Mummy, I can stay for dinner," he said calmly.

Ginny's eyes narrowed even further as Bonnie spun around to face her mother. Harry winced again. He was going to have bruises on his thighs tomorrow. "Mummy, _please_ can Harry stay and have s'getti with us?"

"Harry is very busy, Bonnie..."

"I'm not busy today," denied Harry. "I kept the afternoon free to visit."

"He said he's not busy today," repeated Bonnie, just in case her mother had not heard. "_Please Mummy!_"

Harry heard Ginny's sigh of resignation, or perhaps it was exasperation; she had run out of excuses. "If you go to bed now, Harry can stay and have spaghetti with us."

"_Yay!_" Bonnie threw her arms around Harry's neck and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. Harry scooped her into his arms so that he was no longer in danger of emasculation. He buried his head against her neck and blurted a raspberry against the sensitive skin, causing the little girl to giggle madly.

"Is Mummy's spaghetti delicious?" he whispered into Bonnie's tiny ear.

Bonnie giggled and pulled Harry's ear down to her mouth. "Yes," she whispered back. "It's really, really delicious. Mummy is the bestest cooker."

Ginny reached for her daughter but Harry stood up with Bonnie firmly held against his chest. "I'll carry her," he said and before Ginny could argue, he marched into the bedroom with his giggling, excited bundle.

~HPGW~

Ginny shut the bedroom door and stalked across the room. Harry had left her to tuck Bonnie in and he knew he was going to get a mouthful for his audacity. He was hoping to lessen the hostilities with an offering of tea. Hackneyed, he knew, but he really couldn't think of anything else to do to improve the atmosphere. He held out one of the mugs as if it was a shield.

"The universal panacea," he said with what he hoped was a winning grin.

Ginny took the mug and put it down on the bench with exaggerated care.

_Apparently not._

"I would appreciate it if you would stop using my daughter so that you can insinuate yourself into our family."

Harry sighed before taking a sip of his own tea. "Ginny, I am already insinuated deeply into your family..."

"_This_ is my family. _Bonnie_ is my family. My _only_ family!"

"You're wrong, Gin. And I will not rest until I have convinced you of that." He took another sip of his tea, grimacing as it turned bitter in his mouth. He poured the remaining liquid into the sink and put the empty mug on the draining board before moving past Ginny, being careful not to touch her, and walking the several steps to the coat rack. He pulled his coat down and threaded his arms through the sleeves before dragging his scarf out of one of the deep pockets.

"Where are you going?" Ginny finally burst out as Harry wrapped the scarf around his neck. "Bonnie is..."

"How long does Bonnie usually sleep?" asked Harry tersely. Ginny's unwavering hostility and his guilt-ridden sleepless nights were finally catching up with him. His good humour was on the wane.

Ginny bit her lip. This was the first time that she had seen Harry at anything less than determinedly talkative and curious. "She usually sleeps for about an hour and a half," she said softly, for the first time displaying a lack of aggression. "She should be awake around four o'clock."

Harry opened the door. "I'll be back in an hour. I wouldn't want to disappoint your daughter." He stepped onto the tiny wooden landing. "I know how devastated _you_ will be if I don't come back," he said, looking down into the dim garage rather than back at Ginny. He shut the door quietly and didn't see the mingled confusion, regret and apprehension that flashed across her face.

Ginny stared at the closed door and fought the instinct to fling it open and call Harry back. After a minute, she began to move aimlessly around the room, occupying herself with mundane and mostly unnecessary tasks as her thoughts whirled.

_What if he doesn't come back?_

_Of course he'll be back. He promised Bonnie that he would stay for dinner and he wouldn't disappoint her._

_What if he's had enough?_

_Harry Potter doesn't give up that easily._

_Why am I so worried?_

_Because despite going out of your way to make him feel unwelcome, you listen everyday for the sound of him Apparating into the garage. You want him around because you have never gotten over him! __**And **__deep down, you revel in the things he slips into the conversation about your family… you want to hear about your mother and father, and your brothers. _

Ginny stood in the middle of the room and stared into space as she finally admitted to herself what she had felt almost from the first moment Harry had come back into her life.

_Deep down I want him to convince me to go back!_

_**TBC:**  
_

_Hiya! My muses are focusing on this story at the moment, so I am sorry to all those people who are hanging out for updates of ASD and Muggle. Be assured that they are still definitely works in progress and they will not be abandoned._

_I hope this little offering will appease._

_Reviews, of course, are always welcome._

_Lesley~  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**The usual disclaimer applies. **

Chapter 5

Ginny was on tenterhooks while she waited for Bonnie to wake up. Her daughter had fallen for Harry in a big way and she would be truly devastated if he did not turn up to have dinner with them after promising that he would. Ginny really did not want to have to make up excuses for Harry's absence, nor did she want to have to deal with the floods of tears that were sure to ensue.

Bonnie had taken quite a while to get over the illness that had begun the day that Harry had invaded their lives—a very bad cold that had settled on her chest—and the little girl still tended to burst into tears at the slightest provocation. Ginny had to admit that she would have been at her wits end if it had not been for Harry. He alone had been able to keep Bonnie happy for extended periods of time. The illness had lasted longer than it should have done because Ginny knew from experience that her daughter could not tolerate Muggle drugs, not even mild analgesics, and certainly not antibiotics.

Ginny had had no clue about the Muggle world before she had decided that it was where she would have to live if she wanted her disappearance to be permanent. She had not been old enough to have ever used her magic anywhere outside of school so she had adapted fairly well to doing everything without its benefits. But she had quickly realised that adapting to the Muggle way of life was not going to be all that easy, especially when it came to questions of health.

Her own bad reaction to Muggle drugs had first come about during Bonnie's birth. Her experience in the labour ward had made her determined that she would keep her new daughter away from Muggle drugs. Luckily, Bonnie rarely got sick, but Ginny knew the situation would lead to problems when it was time for Bonnie to start school. She knew that she needed official documentation to prove that her child had received the prescribed childhood vaccinations. She was not quite sure how she was going to deal with that particular hurdle; she had not asked Faith to contact the one person in the wizarding world (before Harry came back into her orbit) who would be able to help her for a very long time, and she was loath to do so again.

Ginny sighed. She pushed herself to her feet and just for something to do to try and take her mind off of one of her many problems, she got the big saucepan out of the cupboard and filled it with water. She then gave the aromatic sauce, simmering sluggishly over a low flame, a stir before getting the crockery out of the cupboard. However, these simple activities plus those required to make a cup of tea—she had not drunk the one Harry had made her an hour and a half earlier—were not enough to prevent her mind from returning to Harry and his relationship with her daughter. She returned to her musings while she stood leaning against the kitchen bench sipping her drink.

Regardless of Bonnie's then very rare imperfect state of health, Ginny had still had to go and work at her part-time job in the coffee-shop where Harry had first found her. Bonnie had become very distressed the first time Ginny—feeling like an absolutely terrible mother—had tried to leave her when she was still so unwell, with Faith, her usual babysitter. Harry, who had made one of his unexpected and unwelcome visits half an hour before Ginny had to leave for work, had volunteered to babysit. Bonnie had stopped protesting about her mother's imminent departure immediately.

Ginny had been most reluctant to leave Bonnie in the care of a man whom she might have known years ago, but who was now essentially a stranger. She had been at her wit's end when Harry had volunteered to babysit, but because she was dependent upon the extra money her part-time job brought in to supplement her single mother's pension, she had eventually caved in to the combined pressure of her tearful daughter and a smug and conniving, but oh, so eminently sensible wizard!

As hard as it was to admit though, Ginny had not had to work too hard to put her misgivings aside; she had known Harry Potter for six years and she knew that he was one of the most honourable people she would ever likely meet—he had even saved her life once.

Also, though Faith's contact with the wizarding world was sporadic at best, her squib landlady had been contacted by her magical family two and a half years ago and told her that Harry Potter had defeated Lord Voldemort, thus freeing wizards and Muggles alike from his tyranny. Faith had known that Ginny did not want to hear news of the world she had left behind, but she had informed her young tenant of this particular event, knowing full well she would want to hear _this_ news.

She was right of course. Ginny had shed many tears that day, relieved beyond belief that it was over and hoping that her family were safe and well.

So, with all of this knowledge, and the certainty that the boy she had once known had a plethora of other heroic deeds to his name, Ginny could be completely certain that Harry would _not_ kidnap her daughter. She shook her head at the absurdity of the notion.

Her reminiscences were interrupted by two things: Bonnie calling for her as she always did when she woke up, and the echoing pop of Harry Apparating into the garage below. She heaved a sigh of relief…there would be no need to placate Bonnie after all. Ginny rushed to the flat door and pulled it open. Harry, who was half way up the stairs, looked up at her.

"Just come in," she said, her relief obvious in her voice. "Bonnie has just woken up." She left the door open and went to her daughter.

"Where's Harry, Mummy?" asked Bonnie as Ginny sat on the bed, helping her get dressed.

"I'm here, Kewpie." Harry was leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed, and Bonnie's smile lit up her little face. As much as Bonnie was excited to see Harry though, shyness overcame her for an instant and she buried her face against Ginny's neck. Ginny felt absurdly pleased that her daughter was not a total pushover for a good looking guy, but she magnanimously shrugged a half-hearted apology to Harry.

"I'll wait out here," said Harry easily. "Can I make a cup of tea?"

"The kettle has not long boiled," answered Ginny, sitting Bonnie on her lap to pull her slippers on. Ginny found that breathing became a little easier after Harry disappeared from her line of sight and her lips tightened into a straight line. What was the matter with her? She was no longer the infatuated idiot who had wasted so much of her young life waiting for Harry Potter to notice her. Why in God's name did his presence still affect her so?

Ginny sat Bonnie on the bathroom bench and began to brush her hair. _I no longer care about you, Harry Potter. Not one little bit!_

"Oww! Mummy, that hurts."

Ginny stopped brushing immediately, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, Bon-bon. I'll be more careful." She dropped a kiss on Bonnie's head and finished grooming the shoulder-length hair by placing a flower clip above each ear to hold the fine tresses out of Bonnie's face. As soon as she lifted Bonnie down, the little girl ran into the living room. Ginny sighed and stood for a moment to gather herself, pulling some strands of blonde hair out of the brush and putting them in the bin. So much for Bonnie's bout of shyness.

Maybe if she stayed in here for a little longer, she might actually manage to convince herself that she was totally indifferent to the man in her living room.

~GWHP~

When Ginny entered the living room, Harry was sitting on the sofa with Bonnie on his lap and a storybook in his hand. He was reading Bonnie's favourite book of the moment –a Little Golden Book called 'Daddy's Little Helper'.

Ginny walked past them towards the kitchenette; she could feel Harry's eyes following her for a split second although there was no break in his storytelling. As she passed the small table where she had been sitting before her bout of activity in the kitchen, Ginny came to a horrified stop. She had left her exercise book open and in plain view. She glanced at Harry who was fully immersed in Bonnie's story; he did not appear to be interested in her at the moment and she quickly closed the book. She gathered it and her pencils into her hands and thrust them into a drawer burying them beneath some tea-towels. As she opened the fridge to grab the carton of milk, she prayed silently that Harry had not read any of her scribblings. She felt sure that he would mention it if he had; he would most definitely want to know what she was doing.

But Harry did not mention her writing. He virtually ignored her whilst she puttered around pouring some milk for Bonnie and finishing the preparations for their meal. After Harry had read a grand total of three different stories to her, Bonnie had told him that it was her job to set the table and she hopped off his knee and skipped over to the kitchen. Ginny opened the cutlery drawer and got out the requisite number of spoons and forks which she carefully transferred into the little hands of her daughter with her normal admonition to be very careful.

Much to her embarrassment, Harry had brought a bottle of red wine and a garlic focaccia.

"You didn't have to bring anything," she said knowing that her face was red but hoping that Harry would put her high colour down to the heat from the stove-top.

"I know I didn't," said Harry as he unwrapped the bread. "I was landed on you with no notice, so I wanted to contribute. "This needs warming in the oven."

Ginny wasn't going to argue the point; he had brought the focaccia and they might as well eat it. Merlin knew that by dividing the sauce between the three of them, their servings were not going to be overly large. Thank goodness she had made enough sauce so that she could freeze half of it for another meal, otherwise she would have been even more embarrassed by the size of the portion she would be able to offer Harry.

"Thank you," she said in a stiff voice as she placed the round of bread on an oven tray and slipped it into the tiny oven.

"Do you have a cork-screw?" asked Harry, holding up the bottle of wine.

Ginny rubbed her forehead, her embarrassment increasing. "Actually, no I don't. I don't drink so I've never had the need for one."

Harry was sure that the only reason Ginny didn't drink even the occasional glass of wine with a meal was because she could not afford to buy it. It was not difficult to see that Ginny lived on a shoe-string, even with her part-time job. He held up the bottle. "Would you like to try it? Red wine goes beautifully with Italian food."

"No thank you," said Ginny, even more stiffly. "But don't let me stop you. I'm sure opening the bottle won't present a problem for you. Just do it surreptitiously." She jerked her head towards Bonnie who had the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration as she carefully laid out the cutlery.

Harry lips tightened in irritation; as if he would blatantly use magic in front of the little girl. He took a deep breath to calm himself and he shook his head. "No it won't, but if you don't want a drink, then I can do without as well." He placed the bottle out of the way in a corner at the edge of the sink.

Bonnie piped up at that moment and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief that she could concentrate on her daughter rather than Harry. "Mummy, we haven't got a chair for Harry."

Alas, her relief was short lived –indeed, suddenly her embarrassment intensified. What was the matter with her? Why had she not realised that her tiny dining setting could only seat two? She had never had a guest stay for a meal until Harry had insinuated himself into her life. He had provided the meal that first evening—fish and chips—and seating had not been a problem because Bonnie had been in bed. Until this evening, that had been the only time Harry had dined here.

Ginny did not invite people to her home; the chance of someone seeing something they would not be able to believe was one that Ginny was unwilling to take –Bonnie, like all magical children had bursts of accidental magic and Ginny did everything in her power to make sure they were not witnessed by anyone but herself and Faith. So far, she had been lucky. Whenever she took Bonnie out anywhere these days, she was always on tenterhooks because Bonnie's bouts of uncontrolled magic were becoming more frequent.

Harry was talking and Ginny tuned back in to what was happening in her home. "That won't be a problem," he was saying. "I think I saw a chair down in the garage. I'll just go and get it."

Ginny's eyes widened as Harry strode from the flat; she heard him clattering down the stairs. Less than thirty seconds later he had returned carrying a wooden chair. Bonnie clapped her hands; all was right with her little world again. Ginny didn't think that her world was ever going to be right again. She fumed silently as she turned off the heat under the spaghetti and carried the saucepan to the sink where she tipped its contents into a colander.

~HPGW~

The meal was delicious—Ginny seemed to have inherited her mother's talent in the kitchen—but if it had not been for Bonnie, Harry was sure both he and Ginny would have ended up with indigestion, so tense was the atmosphere between the pair of them. While he ate, Harry kept an amused eye on Bonnie's efforts to wind the long noodles around her little fork; she had forbidden her mother to cut them up so that she could eat her meal with a spoon because 'she was a big girl now'.

Ginny, whose serving had been little bigger than her daughter's, finished her meal quickly. She then gently insisted on guiding Bonnie as to the correct manoeuvre to get the annoyingly squirmy noodles around her fork. Harry was aware that she was trying to block out his presence, but as they were in such close proximity, that was a task doomed to failure; there knees kept on bumping together. _That_ was a situation that Harry was having trouble coping with. This was the closest he had been to Ginny for such an extended period of time; she usually found an excuse to put half a room between them if they ever ended up within arms reach of each other.

Harry was aware that he had received the lion's share of tonight's meal and he felt guilty about it. He was also sure that if he was not there, half of the sauce would have been frozen for another meal. He was not sure what he could do though, because he knew that if he turned up on the doorstep with a bag of groceries, then Ginny would more than likely throw the contents of the bag at him.

Harry was just as glad as Ginny when the meal was finally over. He stood up quickly and began to gather up the dishes, silencing Ginny's objections with reasoned argument. "Why don't you get Bonnie ready for bed while I clean up in here?"

"You don't have to do that," insisted Ginny.

"_No_, but I want to. You cooked, I'll clean."

Ginny could see he was not to be swayed and so she took her daughter and disappeared into the bedroom. The tiny bathroom did not boast a bath but the shower had a deep base that was big enough to bathe the little girl. Ginny took her time, hoping that Harry would finish in the kitchen and then have the decency to leave.

Harry had no such plans however, and he good-naturedly succumbed to Bonnie's entreaties that he read to her again. Ginny hid her irritation at having this usual bedtime activity wrested from her and she squeezed into a corner of the old sofa and opened the novel she had been trying to read since before Harry had crashed into her life again. She could not concentrate on anything, not even her writing for more than fifteen minutes at a time, and it was all the fault of Harry _bloody_ Potter.

Ginny was reluctant to send Bonnie to bed because she was a perfect buffer, but when Bonnie's blonde head drooped to rest against Harry's chest and her eyelids began to flutter closed, Ginny knew she had to become the responsible mother rather than the nervous woman. When she stood to lift Bonnie off Harry's lap, he shook his head, put down the book and stood with the soft, sweet-smelling bundle in his arms.

"I'll carry her," he said softly and he marched into the bedroom and gently

deposited Bonnie into her bed.

Gentleness notwithstanding, Bonnie instantly awoke and tried to push herself into a sitting position. "Nooo!" she grizzled, "I'm not tired." She immediately made a lie of this statement by yawning widely.

"I think you are Kewpie," contradicted Harry gently, and he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "It's late and Mummy needs to tuck you in."

"Are you coming tomorrow, Harry?" asked Bonnie, her wide sleepy eyes trained on him as he moved aside so that Ginny could move forward.

"Harry has to do other things sometimes, Bonnie," said Ginny quickly. "He might be busy tomorrow."

Harry didn't have a chance to contradict that statement before Bonnie started to scream. "_No_!" I DON'T WANT HARRY TO LEAVE! HE MIGHT NOT COME BACK!"

"Bonnie, _that's enough_!" said Ginny sternly. Bonnie was kicking her legs wildly and trying to squirm out from under the covers, screaming the whole time. Harry moved forward to try and assist Ginny but she turned flinty eyes upon him as she continued to struggle to keep her daughter on the bed.

"Haven't you done enough? Will you please go and wait in the other room?"

Harry rubbed his forehead; he wanted to point out that if Ginny hadn't old her daughter that he might not come tomorrow, this tantrum would probably have been avoided. Right now though, it did seem as if his presence was only exacerbating things. He turned towards the door, but before he could take a step, Bonnie stopped screaming and a fraction of a second later, the door slammed shut with a wall shaking _BANG_!

Ginny and Harry both stared at the door, their mouths open in shock. Bonnie took advantage of her mother's loosened grip and she squirmed out of the bed and ran to wrap her arms around Harry's legs; she was now sobbing loudly. Harry automatically bent down to swing the little girl into his arms; he cradled her head against his neck and rocked her from side to side.

Ginny had collapsed onto the floor beside the bed where she continued to stare at the door as if she was in a daze. Then her deadened gaze moved from the door and locked with Harry's remorseful green eyes over the top of Bonnie's blonde curls. Harry knew that this was aberrant behaviour for the little girl and he truly did not get any pleasure out of this situation…he really did not want Ginny's life to be made this difficult; he just wanted to convince her to come home where she and Bonnie belonged.

He opened his mouth to tell Ginny this, but to his horror, Ginny covered her eyes with her hand and leaned her head back against the mattress as her shoulders began to shake with silent, wracking sobs. Harry remained frozen for a second and then he took the two steps that brought him to Ginny's side, and with Bonnie still in his arms, he lowered himself to the floor and put his arm around Ginny's quaking shoulders, pulling her against his side.

The kindness was too much and an anguished cry finally escaped Ginny and her sobs became audible; she buried her head against Harry's chest, quickly dampening his shirt with her tears.

"Shh, Gin, it's okay. Everything will be all right," he crooned softly, his mouth against her hair. Ginny shook her head and continued to sob.

Bonnie heard her mother's sobs and her own tears ceased immediately. She pushed herself back and looked at Ginny. Then her little face crumpled again and she began crying anew with the fright of seeing her mother so distressed.

"_Mummy_!" Bonnie flung herself awkwardly across Harry and tried to insinuate herself into Ginny's arms. Ginny had grasped a handful of Harry's shirt and for a few seconds chaos ensued as Harry tried to hold an upset and determined Bonnie back so that Ginny could gather herself together enough to take her daughter in her arms.

Finally, the three of them were sitting in a huddle…Harry still had his arm around Ginny's shoulders and Bonnie clung to her mother like a limpet. Harry sat stoically as Bonnie sobbed loudly and Ginny tried to gather herself together. He did not know how long they sat there, leaning against the bed, but he knew his butt was going numb when Bonnie's sobs began to peter out and she finally sagged into Ginny's arms, forcing Ginny more tightly against Harry's side.

Ginny had finally managed to get herself under some semblance of control just before Bonnie fell asleep but she found that she was quite content to stay right where she was. She knew Harry had to be uncomfortable, supporting both her and Bonnie's weight, but she was too wrung out to move. Silence reigned for many minutes until it was broken by Harry.

"Better now?" he whispered, his mouth against Ginny's sweet-smelling hair again. He shut his eyes and inhaled the fragrance of lavender and roses. Harry suddenly remembered a similar smell pervading the bathroom at the Burrow and he inhaled deeply, allowing the clean, sweet fragrance to fill him up. He did not realise until this moment that he had missed that smell.

"She's releasing wild magic more and more often," Ginny whispered. "How am I going to live in the Muggle world if my daughter keeps on making weird things happen?"

"You're not alone anymore, Gin. We'll work it out together." Harry tightened his arm around her shoulders. Somehow, he found his lips pressed against the red tresses.

Ginny's sore and tired eyes widened when she felt Harry's gentle kiss. She lay quiescent, pressed against his side and felt him move his mouth again and again to plant little kisses against her head. She closed her eyes and savoured the sensation…savoured the fact that she was in Harry's arms, just like she had once dreamed of being. She inhaled a deep, shuddering breath and she felt Harry lift his face away from her.

_No! Don't move away. Please! _Gathering some of the Gryffindor courage she had needed over the last three and a half years, Ginny lifted her head and found herself staring directly into the beautiful green eyes she had fantasised over since she had first seen them when she was eleven. She didn't even see the glasses; they were as much a part of Harry as the messy black hair and the beautiful eyes.

Harry swallowed and not giving himself time to think…time to back away, he lowered his head and tasted Ginny Weasley's lips for the first time.

**TBC: **_Thank you to all the people who are reading this story and those of you who have put it on their favourites and alert's lists. A special thank you to all my wonderful reviewers. Thank you so much. I love reading your comments. I hope that I managed to answer you all._

_I hope you all enjoyed this one._

_Lesley~  
_


	6. Chapter 6

Yep, I'm still alive. It's been a while and I am sorry. I hope this appeases those of you who have been hanging out for an update.

**Last time:** _Harry swallowed and not giving himself time to think…time to back away, he lowered his head and tasted Ginny Weasley's lips for the first time._

Chapter 6

Ginny's heart skipped several beats when she registered that Harry was finally kissing her ... kissing her passionately on the lips instead of peppering her hair with comforting little pecks. _This _is what she had dreamed about from about the age of fourteen; before then, she had been too young to think of the physical aspect of her obsession with Harry Potter. All she had known in those early years was that Harry was just as wonderful in real life as she had always imagined him to be when her mother had told her stories about The Boy Who Lived.

Harry had been her hero before she had met him, and after he had stayed at the Burrow the year she had started at Hogwarts, he had become her obsession. She could not remember when she had first realised that she was in love with her brother's best friend; it seemed as if that had always been the case.

Ginny melted against Harry; he had turned more fully towards her but the warm, sweet-smelling bundle that was Bonnie made it impossible for him to take Ginny properly into his arms. Instead, Harry tightened the arm that was across her shoulders and Ginny turned into the kiss as much as she could around her encumbrance.

He tasted just as she had always dreamed he would. His touch was gentle, almost tentative. It seemed as if Harry was not going to totally give himself over until he made sure that she was as far into the moment as he was. _Ever the thoughtful one. _Ginny pressed her lips more firmly against his, letting him know she was a willing participant.

He opened his lips slightly, covering hers with their firm, yet soft comfort. Harry still did not push too hard; he just moved his lips over hers with gentle persuasion. It was enough ... and yet, Ginny wanted more. A tiny little moan escaped her throat—hardly audible, more felt than heard—and it was a signal for Harry to increase his hold on her senses.

Her breath hitched when his tongue laved her lips. She became still, and her breathing suspended as he breached the tiny opening her parted lips had formed. But Harry did not press further, perhaps sensing her unease; he retracted his tongue, forgoing taste and just going with sensation.

It was enough ... her lips against his were enough for now.

In his twenty and a half years, Harry had not kissed a great number of girls. He had been a relatively late arrival on the doorstep of sexual experimentation; his first lip-lock had not engendered a very great desire to repeat the experience. Cho had been a stunning-looking girl and Harry had fantasised about her since his third year at Hogwarts, but kissing her had been somewhat of a letdown.

He had been afraid that kissing would always be the rather soggy experience that first kiss had been, so he had approached the physical aspect of his next _affaire de coeur_ with some trepidation. He needn't have worried though, because although he had never had a relationship that had lasted more than several months, Harry had enjoyed every aspect of these later relationships. The three girls he had enjoyed relationships with had all been as totally into the moment, and their _corporeal _partner, as he had been ... Cho had never gotten over her memories of Cedric Diggory, at least, not while she had been with Harry. Tears had been the most notable aspect of their very short—more off than on—liaison.

Ginny's lips should not have been so very different to the lips of the three young women Harry had successfully had relationships with, but they were. He knew he could not have described the differences, but if forced, he would have said that perhaps it was not Ginny's actual lips, but the emotions behind the kiss.

Harry could feel shyness and fear, wonder and insecurity and just the faintest trace of shock. There was so much going on beneath the pretty visage that had been ravaged by loss, deprivation and loneliness, and Harry felt the most overpowering urge to protect her and make everything better.

He raised his arm from where it was draped over Ginny's shoulders and clasped the back of her head gently, spearing his fingers through her long tresses and forcing her lips more firmly against his own. He tried to position himself so that their bodies were closer but Bonnie made it impossible; he was still cradling her lower body with one arm while her torso was pressed against Ginny's chest, her little arms wrapped tightly around her mother's neck. With her head turned to the side, and with Harry's lips on hers and his possessive hold on her head, Ginny was in imminent danger of suffocation.

At the same time as she reluctantly dragged her mouth sideways to break the kiss and rest her forehead against Harry's neck, Bonnie let out a sleepy little squeak and burrowed more deeply against Ginny's chest; she twisted her lower body in an effort to fully climb into her mother's arms, wedging one little knee into Harry's ribs as she did so.

Harry grunted in pain but ignored his discomfort and disappointment that the kiss was over. He gently moved the still-sleeping child so that she was fully resting on her mother and then he gathered his protesting muscles into action and levered himself to his feet. He rubbed a numb buttock and stared down at Ginny, who, after raising a wide-eyed look of regret at Harry, lowered her face to rest against Bonnie's tousled hair.

"Not the most ideal place or time to kiss you," Harry said quietly. "Here, let me take her." He bent down to grasp the child under the arms and lift her off her mother.

"No, it's okay," said Ginny a little breathlessly and she tightened her arms around her baby, drawing her legs to the side preparatory to standing. But her extended time sitting on the hard floor and with the added weight of her child, standing unaided was out of the realms of possibility at that particular moment and she had to quickly put a hand on the floor to stop herself from falling over sideways.

Harry's mouth tightened. He could see that Ginny was already drawing away from him again and he was suddenly beyond frustrated. "Don't be so bloody ridiculous," he muttered, reaching down again and lifting Bonnie into his arms. Ginny's mouth set into an angry line and she scrambled to her feet in a less than graceful series of movements ... she was even more numb than Harry and she staggered backwards, catching her legs against the edge of the bed and falling unceremoniously onto it.

Harry couldn't help himself ... he huffed out a mocking breath. "Clearly it was okay!"

Ginny scowled, and ignoring the painful resurgence of blood flowing into her lower extremities, she forced herself to her feet again with a wince of discomfort. She avoided Harry's eyes as she gently extricated Bonnie from his arms. Harry released the little girl immediately; despite his annoyance with her mother, Bonnie should not be woken.

"I'll wait in the other room," said Harry, managing with difficulty to keep the anger and bitterness out of his voice. Ginny had already turned away to walk around the base of the bed they had been resting against, to cross to its twin bed where Bonnie slept.

When Ginny finally slunk into the living room, pulling the door shut behind her, she found Harry pacing a track in the carpet. He stopped the moment she appeared and stared at her intently. Ginny kept her eyes on the floor though and Harry could see that their interlude in the bedroom might never have happened. Harry shook his head.

"What happened, Gin? You've closed yourself off again."

Ginny didn't answer; instead, she crossed the small room to the kitchen, only looking up at Harry when she was ensconced on the other side of the kitchen bench. Obviously the barrier made her feel safe. "I think it's time you left Harry. It's late."

Harry frowned and took a step towards the bench. Ginny wrapped her arms tightly around herself. This did nothing to improve Harry's frustration and his temper was in serious danger of snapping. "So you're just going to forget what happened in the bedroom?"

Ginny took a deep breath and finally raised her eyes to his. "What happened in the bedroom, Harry? I was upset, you comforted me. End of story."

Harry couldn't believe it. He just stared at her, totally gobsmacked. As he stared, her face became set and determined and she raised her chin defiantly. She was not going to let their little interlude influence her in any way; she was apparently determined to remain totally aloof, and, apart from her daughter, alone. He shook his head again and without realising he had moved, he was in the kitchen. He watched as Ginny's eyes widened in fear and was shocked to find her backed up against the sink with himself standing directly in front of her. "So I was only comforting you, was I? There was nothing else there?"

Harry grasped the back of Ginny's head, his fingers threading through her hair and, ignoring her whimper of protest, he pulled her towards his face and clamped his mouth over hers.

This kiss was not the gentle exploration he had participated in earlier; his lips were hard and determined, his tongue demanding as he tried to breach her defences. Ginny's hands fluttered helplessly for a moment before coming to rest on Harry's shoulders. She did not however, try to pull Harry closer; instead she pushed as hard as she could.

Harry was intent on getting her to become a willing participant in the kiss, and it wasn't until he heard a whimper that he became totally aware that far from participating, Ginny was struggling fruitlessly against his hold and her face was wet with tears.

Immediately, Harry pulled back, staring appalled at the distressed woman imprisoned against him. Feeling sick, Harry dropped his arms and stepped back. "Gin ..." he said hopelessly and automatically, it seemed, he raised one of his hands to brush the wetness from her cheeks.

Ginny lashed out, slapping Harry's hand away. She spun away from him, swiping at her own cheeks and taking great, gulping breaths.

"Gin, I'm sorry. I shouldn't ... I just wanted ..." Harry shut his mouth, his lips becoming a thin line. He didn't know what to say. His action had been unforgivable; his only defence was that he was in the moment before his brain caught up with him. Ginny's shoulders and back were so tense, Harry thought he might break her if he tried to turn her to face him.

"_You_ just wanted!" Ginny spat. "It's all about _you_! It's always all about what the boy wants!" She spun back to face him and Harry fell back another couple of steps at the sight of her livid face and white lips. "The great Harry Potter thinks he can get whatever he wants! The great Harry Potter _will not_ take 'no' for an answer. He will not go away when he knows he isn't wanted."

Ginny suddenly stepped forward and with a muted cry of rage and frustration, she pushed Harry backwards with all her might. Taken unawares, he staggered back a couple of steps, putting his hand out to grab the bench and steady himself.

"I want you to go," she hissed. "I want you to go and never come back. You are not welcome here, Harry and you're wasting your time if you think you're going to talk me into coming back. "

Harry's face became more and more set as Ginny's tirade continued. Her words were hissed but they might just as well have been yelled at the top of her voice; her wishes could not have been clearer. Her hands were clenched at her sides and she was leaning towards him, aggression in every line of her body.

Harry's eyes had iced over before she had finished and when she finally stood there panting after her rant, Harry nodded his head abruptly, once. He couldn't do this anymore. He turned and strode around the bench towards the coat rack. Ginny stood looking at the spot where he had been standing rather than where he was now.

"You win," Harry said simply as he shrugged himself into his coat. "You've finally drilled into my thick head that your determination far and away overshadows mine. So, I'll get out of your hair and you won't have to worry about seeing me again." He wrapped his scarf around his neck and opened the door, letting in the icy air from the garage.

Ginny had not moved; she could not. "You can go back to your isolated little existence," continued Harry, looking down into the garage because he did not want to look at her again; he just might waver if he did that, and this had suddenly become much too hard. She was not going to break.

"You can rest assured that I won't tell your family that you're alive and well. You can continue to live in obscurity and your family in ignorance." Harry stepped through the doorway and pulled the door shut behind him, though just before the lock snicked, he whispered through a constricted throat, "Kiss Bonnie goodbye for me." Then he was gone.

Ginny stood completely still for a full minute after she heard the pop of Harry's Disapparition, the silence crashing around her ears. Then she drew in a shuddering breath and wrapping her arms tightly around her middle, she sank to the floor and gave way to anguished sobs.

~HPGW~

Christmas and New Year had come and gone. Harry had not spent any extended time with his adopted family. He had been unsure whether he would be able to get through the days with the knowledge that was burning a hole in his gut without blurting out the truth to Molly and Arthur. It had been hard enough being around Ron and Hermione without giving his secret away. All in all, he had felt that it would be better for all if he made an excuse so that he could miss Christmas at the Burrow.

Molly and Arthur had been upset, but they had not fussed overly much; Harry had felt immensely guilty because he knew that Molly and Arthur considered him to be a son, and it was important to them to have the whole family together as often as possible and especially for something as important as Christmas. It was even more important that the whole family be together as often as possible ever since Ginny had disappeared from all of their lives.

Thanks to Arthur, Harry's excuse that Dudley and Amanda were keen to have him around for their first Christmas in their new flat was not given too close a scrutiny. Molly's eyebrows had risen at Harry's news, but as Dudley was the only blood family that Harry had that he actually stayed in contact with, she had, after a stern look from Arthur, managed to hold back from voicing her disapproval of the boy who had made Harry's childhood hell. Dudley's apparent transformation into something that loosely resembled a decent human being, did not, as far as Molly was concerned, make up for all the years of Harry suffering at the hands of his cousin.

Ron's reaction had been one of open-mouthed disbelief and he had only just stopped short of calling Harry a moron; Ron knew that Harry socialised with Dudley these days, but this was _Christmas!_ Hermione had remained silent but she had scrutinised Harry much like Dumbledore had often done ... as if she could see right into his mind. Harry knew that Hermione had never studied Legilimency, but knowing Hermione as he did, she could have just picked up the discipline from reading about it in books.

Harry was lucky that his best friends had been so busy with their wedding preparations, so after their initial noises of protest and disappointment, they had let the matter drop.

Harry, of course, had no such plans for Christmas; Dudley and Amanda had spent the day with Amanda's family as Vernon and Petunia had finally realised their hearts desire and bought a small condo in Spain, and they spent as much time there as they could. Naturally, they wanted Dudley with them but as they did not approve of Amanda—no girl would ever be good enough for their Diddikins—Dudley refused to accompany them anymore.

Harry had gone to Italy for a few days ... Tuscany to be precise; a place he had always wanted to visit. He had kept himself busy sightseeing, hiring a car to tootle around the beautiful countryside, his focus the abundant vineyards. Even though the vines were dormant at this time of year, the cellars were well stocked. Having to concentrate on the narrow roads that wound their way amongst the abundant hills ensured that Harry's mind was not free to dwell upon Ginny and Bonnie too often. But you could not keep yourself occupied twenty-four hours a day and Harry found his nights plagued with memories ... not just recent memories, but memories of the very different Ginny he had known before she had disappeared.

He missed both Ginny and Bonnie. He could not believe how much he missed them. Ginny's daughter had wormed her way into his heart as thoroughly as Guy and Leon had wrapped Bill around their little fingers, and Sam, Charlie.

But Harry knew it was pointless dwelling on thoughts of the pair; Ginny had made her feelings perfectly clear. She had no intention of coming home and she obviously felt nothing but intense irritation towards him.

Once home, and shrugging off all Ron and Hermione's efforts to find out where he had been hiding, Harry had been swept up in the final preparations for the wedding. As best man, it was his job to make sure that Ron remained firmly grounded ... a task, Harry discovered, that mostly involved being a sounding-board; Ron needed constant reassurance that he was doing the right thing and that he _was _good enough for Hermione.

Now, Harry had Grimmauld Place to himself. His two best friends were honeymooning in the Seychelles, compliments of Harry, who had paid for the whole thing after an idle comment from Hermione several months previously, that she would love to visit the beautiful islands one day. Harry had shouted down their howls of protest by telling them it was his wedding gift to them. They had been planning a much more moderate trip to Cornwell, where the English winters were a little milder. The young couple, though both working, did not have much money to throw around on holidays, even if it was a honeymoon; a place of their own to live was their major priority and they would be moving into a tiny flat in Ottery St Catchpole when they returned. They would have preferred living in London, but accommodation was far too expensive in the city.

Ron and Hermione had finally given in to Harry because the trip was a done deal and Harry had told them that he could not get his money back. They had flown out of Heathrow five hours ago, Ron a pale shade of green at the thought of having to 'be imprisoned in that Muggle-made, metal monstrosity.' Harry grinned at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he got ready for bed. He remembered how Hermione had headed off a full-blown panic attack from her new husband; when the three of them had been sharing a final bottle of celebratory champagne at the airport, she had slipped Ron a strong calming draught. Harry knew Ron would be asleep within five minutes of boarding the plane. Ron had definitely not inherited his father's fascination with Muggles and their contraptions.

An hour after climbing into bed, Harry flopped onto his stomach and huffed in irritation. He wished he had had a lot more to drink, or some Dreamless Sleep Potion, or even some of Hermione's calming draught, because, as had happened every night since he had stopped seeing Ginny and Bonnie, he could not empty his mind of memories of the times he had spent with them. With a groan, he flopped back onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes.

Not for the first time, Harry imagined what might have been if he had not remained ignorant of exactly what was under his nose when he became old enough to notice girls. _Why_ had he never noticed Ginny? Or, more specifically, why had he never noticed her as anything other than his best friend's sister, then a friend in her own right, a great Chaser, and a not too shabby Seeker. Then he answered his own question ... Cho Chang had bewitched him from his third year until partway through his fifth. She had seemed the perfect girl. And perhaps for Cedric, she had been. Harry had been the not quite up to scratch understudy.

For Ginny, for a long time, _he_ had been the leading man and he had never taken advantage of that. He had socialised with her in the term breaks and had even hung with her a fair bit at Hogwarts because she and Hermione had been like best girlfriends, even though they had been in different years. Ginny had always been there. It had been a case of ignoring what was right under his nose.

Hermione had said that Ginny had finally gotten over her crush on him, and when Harry thought back to Ginny's fourth and fifth years at Hogwarts, that seemed to have been the case. He remembered the Ravenclaw boy, Michael Corner in her fourth year, when he had been drooling over Cho, and his fellow Gryffindor and classmate, Dean Thomas had been the boy of choice for a while in her fifth year.

Harry remembered that Ron had been thrilled when it appeared that Ginny and Dean were no longer an item, and indeed, Harry could remember Ginny being down in the dumps for a while, before she perked up and became her normal, easy to get along with self. He himself had been leery of connecting with another girl after Cho; with Cho still mourning her first boyfriend while she had been with Harry, he had always found it difficult to think that any girl could want him for himself. So Harry had stayed clear of flirtations and had instead watched with amusement and exasperation as Ron took his hormones out for a test run with Lavender Brown before finally clueing into the fact that he had had the right girl under his nose the whole time.

Ginny had never been on his radar and he really did wonder now what had been the matter with him. When Ginny had disappeared, Harry had mourned her along with the Weasleys, but he had felt like a brother who had lost his sister. Or at least, he thought he had. For months his dreams had been plagued with images of her in all her personas: the shy little girl who had put her elbow in the butter, the pale and stressed twelve year old whom Tom Riddle had been possessing, the close to death Ginny on the damp floor of the Chamber of secrets. Studious Ginny, laughing Ginny, determined Ginny, flying Ginny with her magnificent hair streaming out behind her.

It had been that hair that Harry had first noticed in the coffee-shop window. Harry had never seen quite that shade on anyone except the Weasley family. But somehow on the boys, the colour, although vivid, was not as alive as it was on Ginny. Harry had studied that hair quite closely in the time he had been in the new Ginny's company—surreptitiously of course—and he did not think he had ever seen quite so many strands of colour on one person's head...some of them almost seemed fluorescent. It seemed like one hundred different shades made up the stunning titian fall; it hung thick and straight to her shoulder blades, and though Ginny's face was pale and wan these days and her freckles stood out starkly against the pallor, her hair was as amazingly vivid as it ever had been.

Harry finally dropped off to sleep thinking that, as adorable as Bonnie was, it was a shame she had not inherited her mother's hair colour.

~GWHP~

Tap, tap, tap. Harry was so immersed in the article he was reading in the Muggle newspaper, the slight noise didn't really register with him, though his brow furrowed a little, when the tapping became more insistent.

_Taptaptaptaptap!_ What the hell!! Harry lowered the paper and stared, his brows rising when he saw the tawny coloured owl outside his kitchen window. Even with the large envelope clamped in its beak, Harry could see that it looked disgruntled; its head was bent to the side and its beady yellow eye looked slightly malevolent.

Who would be writing to him today? It was Sunday. It wouldn't be any of the Weasleys because they had all been together for the wedding just yesterday. And Ron and Hermione would only have just arrived at their destination and even if they had had the time to write, Harry was absolutely positive that letter-writing would be the last thing on their minds right now. The angry owl let loose another staccato _taptaptap_ and Harry finally found the presence of mind to move. Dropping his piece of toast back onto his plate and throwing the paper aside, he pushed to his feet and hurried to the window, throwing it up so the owl could enter.

It did so, bypassing Harry and flying to the table, cuffing him about the head with a wing as it passed. The ill-tempered owl had to be female, Harry thought as he remained by the open window and watched the avian invader help herself to a drink from his glass of orange juice and the piece of toast he had just discarded. She flew back past him and out the window, with Harry calling 'you're welcome', after her retreating form as he slammed the window against the freezing January air.

Harry sat back down and picked up the envelope. He stared at the hand written 'Harry Potter', written in unremarkable upper-case letters. He did not recognise the writing at all. The envelope was paper rather than parchment, and not particularly good quality paper at that. As Harry stared at the words, his heart sped up a little; they had been written with a biro rather than a quill.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Harry roughly tore the envelope open and extracted a single sheet of paper, folded in half. The note was very short.

_Harry, I know I have no right to contact you after the things I said the last time we saw each other, but I really need to see you. Please! Ginny._

Harry stared at this missive, his thoughts chaotic. He had honestly thought that he would never see Ginny again. He was not one to give up when he set his mind to something, but he had to admit that Ginny Weasley had defeated him. Give him a Dark Lord and a bunch of Death Eaters and he was in his element, but give him a closed off, mistrustful, beautiful redhead determined to stick to her own agenda, he was pants! Apart from that one kiss, in which said redhead had participated fully, his powers of persuasion had fallen way, way short of the mark.

Why then, after everything that had been said and done, did Ginny want to see him? Just to make sure that he stayed away? Harry shook his head. No. That definitely didn't make sense. If she was worried that he needed a reminder, she would have just given it to him in the letter.

Harry pushed himself away from the table and headed upstairs. As he showered and dressed, his mind flitted here and there, remembering the short days he had known the new Ginny and her daughter, going over every brittle meeting, and lingering on that kiss. Ginny's abrupt return to isolationism and her determined and nasty confrontation had been a shock—he thought they had finally made a breakthrough and that they had both succumbed to a mutual attraction—and his own determination to bring her home had finally shrivelled and died. It took him a long time to catch on, but the message finally got through.

As he gazed off into space, polishing his glasses with a sheet of toilet paper, Harry came to the unwelcome conclusion that something had to be wrong. Ginny had managed to live her life without reference to anyone in the wizarding world for three and a half years. Yes, something was very, very wrong.

With an increasing sense of urgency, Harry did a final cursory check in the mirror, picked up his wand and automatically trying to flatten his hair as he hurried from the bathroom and clattered down the stairs. He grabbed his coat and scarf from the hall cupboard, bundling himself up against the cold before Disapparating with a soft pop.

The garage was exactly as it had always been with the pristine blue car sitting proudly in the middle of the ultra-neat space. Harry had appeared on the small landing at the base of the wooden staircase. He peered up the stairs, noting the strip of light under the door at the top. Taking a deep breath, he slowly ascended, wondering as he did, what he could expect when he was face to face with the prickly young woman;. Even though she had summoned him, Harry was convinced that he would not see a great change in Ginny's attitude. She had been alone and independent for far too long; she did not even seem to be close to Faith, her landlady and part-time babysitter, though Harry felt that that was a mutual attitude.

When the door opened revealing Ginny, Harry paused with one foot in midair. They gazed at each other for a tense moment before Ginny moved away and with a tightening of his lips and a slight shake of his head, Harry continued his upward journey. When he entered the warm room, Ginny was standing beside the couch, waiting for him and wringing her hands together.

Harry stared, reaching out blindly to push the door shut against the bitter cold. The quiet _snick_ of the lock went unnoticed as Harry's gaze fastened on Ginny's mouth when she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and then clamped her teeth onto her bottom lip. She seemed to realise that she was giving away her nervousness, and she stopped wringing her hands and pulled the sleeves of the hideous, bilious green, overlarge jumper Harry had first seem her in, down over her hands.

"Thanks for coming," she said in almost a whisper. Harry gave a short, sharp nod and Ginny watched as he undid the buttons of his coat and then thrust his hands into the pockets. He remained silent though; this was her party and he didn't feel like making things easy for her. Ginny apparently recognised the strategy because colour flooded her face. Harry looked down at his shoes because unlike Ron, when Ginny blushed, instead of looking like a boiled lobster, she became even more attractive. He wanted to stay aloof; he needed to remain as distant as possible because she was far too tempting.

Ginny too looked down, unable to look Harry in the face when she next spoke. "I want to apologise for the things I said the last time you were here." When Harry didn't respond, she blundered on. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, I know. But Harry, I was scared."

Harry looked up and raised his eyebrows. "You were scared of me?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, not scared of _you. _Scared of what you might talk me into."

Harry's lips thinned. He crossed the small space to the bench and leaned back against it, his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands still buried deeply in his pockets. "Well, you don't have to be scared anymore. I'm only here because you asked me to come. Where's Bonnie?" he asked, changing the subject because he was uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going.

"I asked Faith to mind her for me while I talked to you."

"How did you know when I would come?" asked Harry, puzzled. "And where did you get the owl?"

"Delilah belongs to Faith." Harry's brow creased and Ginny rushed to explain. "Faith is a Squib. She keeps an owl so she can contact her family if she has to. And I was sure that you would come when you got my message. I sent Delilah last night, so I knew she would get to you this morning and that you would come straight away."

"I'm that predictable?" said Harry coldly, filing away the information about Ginny's Squib landlady.

Ginny bit her lip again. "Pretty much," she whispered.

"What do you want, Ginny?" Harry was really peeved that she had hidden Bonnie away while she asked of him what she wanted. She obviously didn't want her daughter around him if she could possibly help it. But these bitter thoughts were cut off when Ginny's eyes suddenly filled with tears and she collapsed onto the couch, her hands over her face.

Harry instinctively made to go to her, but managed to stop himself. With difficulty, he waited until she had calmed herself. He felt super callous but he wasn't going to open himself up to more insults and rejection.

Finally, after several long minutes, Ginny managed to bring her emotions under control. She sniffled and dug her fingertips into her closed eyes, swiping the tears away and drying her face with her sleeve. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm making a total bollocks of this." She started to sniffle again.

Harry knew that if he wanted to hear what Ginny had to say anytime soon, he had to do something to restore her equilibrium. He moved into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Having something to do also made him feel a bit more in control; he didn't like to see Ginny so upset, no matter how unpleasant she had been in the past. He couldn't forget the kiss they had shared the last time he had seen her.

Harry hefted the kettle to check that there was enough water before pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it at the kettle so that it boiled instantly, steam erupting from the spout. Ginny watched, sniffling occasionally as Harry made a cup of tea.

"You're not having one?" she asked huskily when he handed it to her.

"I'm not thirsty."

Ginny took a sip of the tea, noting that it was exactly as she liked it. She pointed towards Harry's pocket where his wand had disappeared again. 'You used your wand."

Harry frowned. "Bonnie isn't here to see," he bit out angrily. "You're really a witch and you know I'm a wizard. I'm not going to apologise for using my wand."

Ginny reddened spectacularly and shook her head. "That's not what I meant, Harry. I only meant that the other times I've seen you use your magic, you've done it wandlessly.

Harry shrugged. "It's more sensible to use my wand to boil water. If I touch the kettle to heat it up, I burn my hand." That wasn't strictly true. He would not have had to touch the kettle to heat it up; just holding his hand towards it would have been enough. Sometimes though, he just automatically used his wand when there was no need to hide who or what he was.

Ginny ducked her head, feeling utterly stupid. She took another sip of her tea. "When did you learn to do wandless magic?" she asked, but Harry turned away and stalked back to the bench.

"Ginny, you didn't ask me to come here to talk about wandless magic. What is it you _do_ want?"

Ginny bit her lip and her hand shook as she put her cup on the table, slopping some of the liquid onto the scarred wood. She began wringing her hands together again and even though her head was lowered, Harry could tell she had succumbed to tears again. Harry sighed and lowered his own head, digging his finger and thumb into his eyes, pushing his glasses askew. He really wanted to go over there and pull her into his arms and comfort her.

"I can't do this anymore."

The words emerged fractured and Harry jerked his head up to see Ginny's shoulders shaking with the strength of her sobs. That was it. Harry couldn't keep his distance anymore. He strode to the couch and threw himself down beside her, pulling her into his arms.

"Shh,!" he soothed, rocking her a little and stroking her hair. "Gin, tell me what's wrong." He had acted instinctively, taking her in his arms, but he had half thought she would pull away straight away, regardless of her distress. So, his breath lodged in his throat when Ginny burrowed against his chest, her hands wrapping around the lapels of his coat and her tears soaking his shirt.

It took a good ten minutes for Ginny to settle down enough to talk to Harry. During that time, he continued to hold and soothe her and she seemed content enough to stay in his arms. When the tears had stopped and she seemed relatively calm, Harry slowly straightened away from her, making sure not to completely abandon her. Ginny took a great shuddering breath and leaned her head against the back of the couch. She pushed her mussed hair away from her face and Harry waited for her to speak.

"It's all gone wrong, Harry," she said in a dead voice. Harry reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Faith is moving to Australia and selling the house," she whispered. "I don't have enough money to rent anywhere and the list for housing is ten miles long, so there's no hope of me getting even a garden shed." Harry's free hand tightened into a fist.

"I can't leave Bonnie with anyone other than Faith because of her accidental magic, so I'm going to lose my job in Simon's shop. And I can hardly leave the house with her because she's releasing magic all the time; several times a day since the last time she saw you." She looked up at Harry, her eyes brimming again. Her voice shook when she continued.

"She had a screaming fit in Tescoes a few days ago. She saw the back of a man who looked a bit like you." Ginny swiped her sleeve across her nose. "When she saw it wasn't you, she started screaming your name and the glass doors on the milk fridges shattered."

She surged to her feet and started pacing frenetically. "_They're supposed to be shatterproof!_" she screeched grabbing twin handfuls of hair and pulling. Harry stood up, ready to intervene if she tried to hurt herself further. But Ginny released her hair and wrapped her arms around her middle, gazing off into space.

"All I could do was scoop her into my arms, abandon my shopping and race out of there like a_ bloody _criminal."

Harry spied the practically full cup sitting in its puddle of tea. He touched his wand in his pocket and picked up the cup, warming it with his hand before forcing Ginny to take it and have a sip. She seemed to appreciate the gesture and after smiling a vague thanks, she continued to sip the drink.

Harry moved away and removed his coat, draping it over the arm of the couch. "You couldn't have thought bringing up a magical child in the Muggle world would be easy, Gin."

Ginny shook her head. "I tried not to think about it. And before you came back into my life, the accidental magic had been virtually non-existent. Tiny little things, like summoning a toy or changing the colour of one of her doll's dresses. The most impressive thing she ever did was locking the door when I tried to take her down to Faith."

She looked at Harry. "I don't remember you talking much about releasing wild magic before you started at Hogwarts. And Hermione never talked about it either. Colin Creevey was a good friend of mine, and he never talked about any overt wild magic before he started at school. I didn't think it would be that much of an issue."

Harry's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Colin Creevey. One day he would have to tell Ginny that her friend had died in the final battle. He pushed the thought away and addressed Ginny's comments.

"I had plenty of episodes of wild magic. I even Apparated once at school. But I was beaten soundly each time anything happened, so it wasn't something I shared, even with Ron and Hermione. They only ever heard about what I did to my Uncle's sister, Marge, just before third year." Harry huffed a bitter laugh. "Then again, practically the whole of the Wizarding Britain knew about that little episode.

"I've never spoken to Hermione about how she managed her accidental magic before she went to Hogwarts. But Hermione is such a together person, knowing her, she was probably able to suppress the freakishness."

Ginny actually laughed, albeit weakly. "You're probably right."

Harry sat back down, his eyes fixed on Ginny as she carried her cup into the kitchen. "So, what do you plan to do? How can I help?"

Once again, Ginny was making a welter out of washing a cup. It was a few seconds before she spoke and when she did, she kept her face averted. "I'm tired Harry," she whispered. "It's been a constant battle with money and Bonnie, but lately, it's gotten so much harder."

Harry held his breath, waiting for her to continue. She straightened her shoulders and finally turned to face him. "I want to come back."

**TBC:** _If you are appeased, some reviews would be lovely. Thanks to all of you who have found this story...I appreciate your support. A special thank you to everyone who has reviewed in the past. I know we authors keep on harping on about reviews, but it is amazingly satisfying to actually know what people think of our efforts. Reviews give us added incentive to continue with our writing. Even if some of us are slow to the point of ridiculousness. Sorry once again._

_A huge thank you to my beta, ObsidianEmbrace, who can always be counted upon to help and gives her time willingly  
_

_Thanks for reading._

Lesley~


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Last time: _Harry held his breath, waiting for her to continue. She straightened her shoulders and finally turned to face him. "I want to come back."_

Harry just stared at her, not quite willing to believe his ears. He watched as Ginny picked up a tea-towel and compulsively began to run her fingers along the side seams. When he remained silent, Ginny rushed back into speech. "I know I've got a cheek and I know I have no right to ask you after holding you at arm's length all those times you came to see me. And I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing, but Harry..." She paused and looked up at him with haunted eyes, looking totally vulnerable, "...I'm so scared."

Ginny sniffed and swiped her sleeve across her face because a certain amount of dampness still lingered, though she seemed to have pulled herself together enough not to cry anymore. Harry did not know what to say or do. The silence stretched out and Ginny pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. She laid the tea-towel on the table and began flattening out the crinkles with her hand. She could feel Harry's eyes drilling into the top of her head.

Finally, she could stand the silence no more. "Say something," she whispered. Harry stood up and hunching his shoulders, he thrust his hands into his jeans pockets.

"If everything hadn't suddenly gone arse up for you, would you want to come back?" Harry's voice was expressionless and Ginny's brow furrowed.

"I... I..."

"That's what I thought," said Harry coldly.

Ginny sprang up and moved towards him. Her face was red and her eyes bright. "You've been at me and at me to come back, and now that I've said I want to..."

"But you don't want to!" interrupted Harry.

"I do want to!" Ginny stamped her foot and stood in front of him quivering with anger. "I never wanted to leave! I _had_ to leave, Harry. She flung her arm out, encompassing the room—the flat—with the agitated gesture.

"Do you think this is what I wanted? Do you really think I wanted to leave everything and everyone that I knew and loved to isolate myself in a world where I don't belong?"

Harry rocked back on his heels and then pierced her with a hard look. "You fought tooth and nail to stay here when I found you. Nothing I said would sway your desire to remain here."

Ginny shook her head and Harry saw her chin quiver a little, though she managed to stave off another attack of tears. "That's because nothing has changed, Harry," she whispered. "I still have a child and as far as I can imagine, my mother's attitude towards her single-mother daughter would be exactly the same as it would have been if I had told her I was pregnant way back at the end of my fifth year instead of leaving.

Harry shook his head. "I refuse to believe that the woman I have known all these years would ever discard one of her children, no matter the reason." They glared at each other until finally Ginny looked away.

"We'll agree to disagree on that point, Harry. But you must allow that I have known and lived with Molly Weasley longer than you have _and_ I am speaking from the position of a daughter... an only daughter." She looked back at him and raised her chin. _"That_ is a perspective that neither you, nor any of my brothers can appreciate."

Harry could not really argue with that. True, he knew that Molly was strict with all of her children and _perhaps_ he might have been aware that Ginny did not have anywhere near the same amount of spare time in the holidays he had spent at the Burrow as he, Ron and the twins had done before they left home; she was more often than not helping her mother around the house. But he had never, _never_ been aware of Molly being overly harsh or in any way unloving with her only daughter.

Harry took a hand out of his pocket and speared his fingers through his hair in a gesture that Ginny remembered all too well. He had always done it when he was feeling unusually agitated or his argument was resting on very shaky ground. "So, I'm not sure I understand what you're saying here, Gin. You want to come back to the Wizarding World, and yet you obviously still feel you won't be welcome back into your family... at least as far as your mother is concerned. Where are you going to go?"

Ginny seemed to deflate and she sank down onto the couch. She covered her face with her hands and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. "_Oh, God!_ This is so much harder than I thought it would be."

She shook her head in short, sharp little movements of denial. "I can't do it... I can't do it," she said in a muffled voice which Harry had to strain to hear.

Harry stared at her bent head and he suddenly understood exactly what Ginny was finding so difficult to say. A funny little explosion went off inside his stomach as it all became clear. She had to leave the Muggle world because she couldn't cope anymore... neither financially nor with Bonnie's burgeoning magic. It was only sensible that she return to the world she had been born into, but she was not yet ready to return to her family. And even in the magical world, Ginny still needed a home and the wherewithal to support herself and her daughter. And she had neither.

Harry, of course, had both... the second in spades. And if he was totally honest with himself, he had absolutely no qualms about supporting Ginny and Bonnie. The Weasleys had given Harry so much since he had come to know them all those years ago, _this_ was a way he could pay them back a little, even if they did not know what he was doing. And there was plenty of room at Grimmauld Place, and Ron and Hermione were now married and would not be coming back there to live.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at Ginny's bent head. Ginny knew him. She knew that he had inherited Sirius' house and fortune and she knew that the Potters had not exactly been destitute either. But she did not know what his living arrangements were at this point in time. She could not know that he was in a position to take her in. Perversely he found her presumption more than a little irritating after the way she had held him at arm's length all the time he had tried to get past her reserve. No wonder she was not game enough to voice her request.

"I gather that you need my help in more ways than just getting you back through the invisible barrier that separates the Muggle World from the Wizarding World," he said.

Ginny's head jerked up and she stared at Harry, blood rushing into her face when she realised what he had said. She jumped up, and spun away from him. She raised an agitated hand to the back of her head, dragging the currently unkempt length of red hair together in her hand where her fingers tightened and pulled so hard, Harry knew it had to hurt.

Harry shut his eyes and sighed, guilt churning in his stomach. What the hell was the matter with him? Just as she had said a minute ago, he had been at her and at her to come back to the Wizarding World with him, and now she had decided to do just that, he was trying to shoot her down in flames. He walked up behind Ginny and put his hand gently over her whitened knuckles. Ginny jumped with fright and jerked away from his touch, spinning around to face him and backing away. Harry's hand fell to his side.

"Ginny... I live at Grimmauld Place. Ron lived with me, and Hermione was there more often than not, but they got married yesterday and are on their honeymoon in the Seychelles. When they come home they'll be moving into a flat in Ottery St Catchpole.

"I have that huge house to myself. There's plenty of room for you and Bonnie. You could stay there until you're ready to face your family. No one need know you're there."

Ginny's eyes had filled with tears again but she dashed them away impatiently. "I thought you hated Grimmauld Place," she whispered in a damp little voice. It was a trite observation, Ginny knew, but it was all she could manage even though the urge to throw herself into his arms and smother him with gratitude was uppermost in her mind.

Harry shrugged. "I loathed it the way it was when the Order was using it." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked a little uncomfortable. "And of course, after... well, after Sirius, I didn't want anything to do with the place. But we had to use it as a bolthole when we first went on the run after Bill and Fleur's wedding."

Ginny looked confused but Harry waved a slightly impatient hand. He didn't want to go off on a tangent at the moment. He hadn't told Ginny about any of his, Ron and Hermione's horror months searching for Horcruxes and Hallows and trying to remain free; she had definitely not wanted to hear anything about what had happened while she had been isolated from the Wizarding World. Now was not the time however.

"I'll tell you about what happened after you left another time. Suffice to say at the moment that you won't believe that Grimmauld Place isn't the same mouldy old house that we all stayed in all those years ago. Kreacher turned out to quite like having me as a master after all, and it's amazing what a co-operative House-elf can do." A fleeting look of sadness crossed Harry's face. "He decontaminated the whole place, followed my wishes to the letter. He was just glad to be able to live in the Black house again after his time at Hogwarts. For that privilege, he was resigned to the walls being painted in light, bright colours and the Slytherin fittings being removed.

Ginny had returned to the sofa and was listening to Harry's words with reluctant interest. "What about Mrs Black's portrait?" she asked, a tad uneasily.

"Ah," said Harry, an evil glint in his eye which made Ginny catch her bottom lip between her teeth in an effort to stop herself grinning at his obvious relish. "Mrs Black's stunning work of art might have had a permanent sticking charm on it, but it wasn't she who had cast it. It appears that the chatelaine of Grimmauld Place would never get her claws dirty by doing such menial work as hanging portraits or tapestries of family trees. Kreacher's family had served the Blacks for hundreds of years and anything that any of them had enchanted with permanent sticking charms could be reversed by the last living member of the family... Kreacher."

"And he removed them willingly?" asked Ginny, amazed.

"He did," said Harry. "I told you that he and I finally learned to get along. Plus, I allowed him to keep Walburga's portrait in his quarters, just as long as he didn't put it up with a permanent sticking charm. I also let him keep the family tree."

Harry went quiet for a time, staring off into space. Finally, he said, "I miss him."

Ginny's mouth opened in a little 'O' of shocked surprise. "He's dead?" she whispered. Harry nodded.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "He was very old. He was nearly one hundred and fifty, if you can believe that. Older than Dumbledore... hell, he was even older than Bathilda Bagshot."

"I had heard that House-elves can live to be two hundred years old or more," said Ginny. Harry looked at her and his heart lifted a little. This was the first time that he had heard Ginny actually volunteer information about the magical world she had left behind. Progress?

They both fell silent for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry had offered; now it was up to Ginny. As far as Harry could tell, she didn't have much choice really. What, with her landlady selling up and Bonnie turning even the simplest outing into a magic show for the Muggles, Ginny's life had become untenable. Hell, Harry could tell that it had been difficult from the start.

He had just decided to push a little bit when the noise of the garage door banging shut drew their attention. Ginny bounded to her feet. "Oh, crap," she breathed as she rushed toward the flat door. She had pulled it open before Faith, carrying a bundled-up Bonnie, could rap upon it.

"Virginia, I told you that I had business to take care of this morning and that I could only look after Bonnie for an hour. It's been an hour and fifteen minutes and I have to go!"

"I'm so sorry, Faith. The time got away from me," Ginny's voice was shakily apologetic as she had the Bonnie bundle thrust into her arms. Faith turned a gimlet eye upon Harry who was still standing near the sofa.

"Hmm," she sniffed. "Handsome young men are not an excuse for ignoring your responsibilities, my girl." Harry looked stonily at the middle-aged woman and she sniffed again and refocused on Ginny who was struggling to unwrap her tightly bound child who was herself struggling to get out of what looked like a large padded quilt which enveloped every inch of her, including her head.

Harry jumped forward and relieved Ginny of her burden as Faith launched into speech again. "I hope you are putting all of your efforts into finding another place to live, Virginia. As of yesterday afternoon, the house is sold. The settlement date is thirty days hence."

Ginny blanched. "Thirty days?" she whispered weakly. "But..."

Faith had turned smartly and was through the door, leaving Ginny talking to fresh air. Ginny held onto the door weakly watching her nearly ex-landlady descend the stairs. Half way down, the woman turned around to speak again, raising her voice above the excited squeals emanating from the room behind Ginny. "Bonnie's accidental magic is getting out of hand, my girl. I suggest you get yourself back to the Wizarding World where it won't be such a problem."

Ginny covered her face with her hand as she pushed the door shut. She ignored the ecstatic greeting Bonnie was bestowing on Harry. The little girl was hanging around his neck like a limpet and peppering his face with sloppy kisses. Harry was laughing at her antics but he was still entirely aware of what had just taken place between Ginny and her landlady. Ginny crossed the room and sunk dejectedly onto the couch again.

Harry joined her there, Bonnie still clinging to him and grinning into his face. "Has she always been like this?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged. "She's never been the warmest person in the world, but she took me in, no questions asked, even knowing I was pregnant."

"How did you find her? I mean, surely it couldn't have been a coincidence that your landlady was someone who knew that there are witches and wizards in the world."

Ginny squirmed a little and when she spoke, Harry had to strain to hear her over Bonnie's excited babbling. "No, it wasn't a coincidence. Someone from Hogwarts organised the whole thing."

Harry's mouth fell open. "Someone from Hogwarts knew about your problems and aided and abetted you in leaving your family and your world?" He couldn't believe it. Who on earth would have sanctioned such an action by a young girl who was not even of age." Ginny had bristled, but Harry ignored her obvious displeasure and discomfort. "Was it an adult... a teacher?"

"It doesn't matter who it was," said Ginny coldly. "It's old history. And besides, the person is dead."

Harry stared at Ginny. Bonnie it seemed, was sick of being ignored by her hero. She placed a little hand on either side of Harry's face and tried to turn his face towards her. Harry allowed the diversion and he smiled stiffly at the little girl before planting a kiss on the end of her little button nose.

"Hey Kewpie, I need to talk to Mummy for a minute. Why don't you get down on the mat and do your unicorn jigsaw puzzle. I want to see if you can put it together all by yourself now."

Bonnie pushed herself back in Harry's arms and looked him in the face. "I can do it by myself now. I'm nearly free." She looked at her mother. "When am I free, Mummy?"

Ginny smiled tiredly and held up four fingers. "It'll be your birthday in this many sleeps."

Bonnie concentrated on her own little hand, trying and failing to tuck her thumb into her palm. Harry solemnly assisted her. "Four more sleeps until you're three. Wow! It's not very long until you're a big girl, is it?" Bonnie grinned. "So, I want to see how quickly you can do that puzzle."

Bonnie squirmed out of Harry's arms and proceeded to pull one of the boxes containing her toys out from under the coffee table. The puzzle box was right on top, an indication the unicorn puzzle was used often. Both he and Ginny watched as Bonnie carefully took the lid off and set it on the table before taking up the box and walking on her knees to the edge of the rug. She took the first oversized piece of puzzle out and set it down precisely on the hard floor.

Keeping his eyes fixed resolutely on the child, Harry spoke to Ginny in little more than a whisper.

"If the person is dead, it can't hurt if you tell me who it was who set all of this up for you, can it?" asked Harry.

Ginny remained silent for more than a minute, watching her daughter's efforts to fit the puzzle pieces together. Did it really matter now if she did tell Harry? This whole set up had finally fallen around her ears like a house of cards and she was now dependent on Harry's good will. She knew he would help her regardless of whether she kept her secrets or not; she wanted to confide in him but it was hard to let go of the habits of what seemed a lifetime.

She took a deep breath. "It was the Muggle Studies teacher, Charity Burbage, who helped me. Faith is her mother. It was after Charity died that Faith decided that she wanted to move away from Britain for good. Her other daughter is a Muggle— or maybe she's a Squib too. I am not entirely clear on heredity in the case of a squib marrying a Muggle and they have a non-magical child, whether the non-magical one is a Muggle or a squib. I always assumed that because there was one magical child from the union then the other is a Squib like her mother.

"Anyway, Hope lives in Australia with her husband and new baby son. They've wanted Faith to move there for years, especially after _he_ came back and everyone was in danger."

Ginny sighed sadly. "Faith has changed since Charity died. I think because I'm a witch, I remind her too much of her magical daughter. She has virtually stopped communicating with the rest of her magical family. They're quite distant anyway, so she's not going to miss them at all; apparently they're rather embarrassed that there is a squib in their pureblood family. Delilah was really only used for communicating with Charity."

Harry was silent again. He really hadn't ever taken much notice of Charity Burbage, having never taken Muggle studies; he hadn't even known that Muggle Studies had been one of Ginny's subjects... another blot on his 'Ginny was never on my radar at Hogwarts' history. "Another example of the bigotry that is rampant in the Wizarding World," was all he could think to say. "The only difference between so many of them and Voldemort is the extremes Voldemort was willing to go to ensure the domination of purebloods and powerful half-bloods over the weak, the Muggle-borns and the Muggles."

Harry looked at Ginny when she shuddered. His brow creased. "Come on," he scoffed. "Surely you're not one of the people who is frightened to say his name. And even if you were before, he's been dead for two and a half years now."

Ginny just shrugged. "I haven't really thought about him all that much, especially after finding out that he was... that you had killed him. I had other demons to fight for him to take up too much room in my thoughts. But old habits die hard." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "If I did think about him, it was to hope that my family and... and you... and Hermione, were safe from him."

Harry felt the usual mire of negative emotions he always felt when thinking about the casualties of the war with Voldemort, but now was not the time to tell Ginny that people that she knew had died. He was relieved when their attention was pulled back to Bonnie who was growling in frustration when a particularly bizarrely-shaped puzzle piece was resisting all her efforts to align smoothly with its neighbour.

Harry was preparing to join her on the floor when Bonnie held out her little hand to hover over the piece. Before both his amazed, and Ginny's resigned and frustrated eyes, the puzzle piece moved independently and abutted smoothly with its neighbour. Harry turned to Ginny, his eyebrows raised. Ginny shook her head and sighed. "Not a day goes by without some small incidence of magic. If they were all as surreptitious as that, I wouldn't be so freaked out. But she usually saves her more spectacular performances for when we're in public."

"You don't tell her off?" asked Harry in an undertone, his eyes on Bonnie's blonde curls as she leaned over the next piece of puzzle.

Ginny shook her head. "How can I tell her off for something that is instinctual? Mum... Mum never told us off. She just waited until I was old enough to try to explain that I had to try to stop doing magic on a whim. Of course, at this age-" she gestured to her daughter with a weary wave of her hand, "-it's totally accidental... to Bonnie, it's just natural. It was when I was older, maybe from six, that I could control it, at least a little bit... unless I was angry or upset. It was only after I turned six that my parents became strict with me about controlling my magic. It's just what parents do with their magical offspring."

Harry remembered his own horrendous childhood; his earliest memories were of punishments—usually corporal—given for his use of magic. He had learned much earlier than six to hide his magical ability; he supposed that the survival instinct had been almost as strong as his instinct to use magic. Of course, fear and anger had made him produce magic, but that was also usually the survival instinct taking over, especially when Dudley and his gang were on the prowl. Harry knew he could never chastise this very young Bonnie for doing what came naturally to her. He supposed that it was Ginny's acceptance—even in the face of utter frustration and fear—that made her daughter's bouts of magic so frequent.

"I did it! Look, Harry, I did it!" The cries of delight pulled Harry from his bitter thoughts just in time to catch the little missile that threw herself at him. "See, I am a bigger girl now?"

Harry hoisted Bonnie into the air over his head, digging his fingers gently into her sides to tickle her. Bonnie squealed and squirmed with delight and Harry grinned into the precious little face before lowering her and kissing her on the nose again. "So you are," he agreed solemnly, wrapping his arms around the slight body and cuddling her to him. He looked at Ginny over the top of her daughter's head.

"She needs to grow up knowing why she does the things she does."

Ginny's lower lip quivered and she caught it between her teeth. She looked at Harry with a mixture of regret and thankfulness. "I know," she whispered.

Harry loosened his hold on Bonnie and lifted her so that she was sitting on his knees, facing him. "Are you hungry?" he asked, bouncing the little girl up and down in a 'horsey ride', and when Bonnie nodded enthusiastically, he said, 'How about I go and get us some fish and chips for lunch?"

~HPGW~

With Bonnie's slight weight straddling one hip, Ginny looked around the forlorn flat one last time. The room wasn't bare; most of the furniture had been here when Ginny first arrived, but all the personal items had been removed to Grimmauld Place. It was a bittersweet moment for Ginny; she had never felt truly at home here because she had always craved something else, but it was the only home that her daughter had ever known.

Bonnie, as the room had emptied out and finally when her boxes of toys had disappeared, had become quieter and quieter. Now, she was resting with her head on Ginny's shoulder, and a long forgotten habit had reared its head again; Bonnie was sucking her thumb. Only the fact that her daughter knew that they were going to go and live with Harry had prevented tears from falling. Still, it was a huge upheaval for the three year old, and over the last couple of hours, Bonnie's chatter had petered out so that now she had fallen totally silent.

Ginny overcame the urge to race around checking the cupboards one last time; she had already delayed her final departure twice while she did exactly that. Two hours earlier, Harry had sent her heart spiralling into her throat when, after she had been worrying about leaving things behind, he had taken out his wand and held it out to her.

"Do a Summoning Charm," he said. Ginny had looked at the wand as if it was a venomous snake. Harry had taken her hand and curled her fingers around the grip of the holly and phoenix-feather wand. A tiny shower of sparks had streamed from the tip causing Ginny to jump. She would have let go of the wand if Harry's hand had still not been wrapped around her own.

When the shock had worn off, Harry had told her to summon her belongings from within the lounge-room and kitchen, the bedroom and the bathroom. He had then told her to do the same for anything of Bonnie's that might have been left behind. All that had appeared was a tiny felt zebra finger-puppet from under Bonnie's bed.

As Ginny looked around, she marvelled at how clean the place was. Harry had used magic to Scourgify and Tergeo the flat to within an inch of its life. It would have taken her hours to do what Harry did in minutes. The moving of all their belongings had been quickly and simply accomplished by Harry who had shrunken the cases bags and boxes, put them in his capacious pockets, and Disapparated with them to Grimmauld Place. That had been this morning, and now there was only herself and Bonnie to transport to their new home.

Ginny had baulked when Harry had told her he could have them both in London in seconds as he could easily side-along them both. She had insisted that it would be too traumatic for Bonnie. Ginny had felt immensely grateful when Harry had not wasted time arguing; he had told her he would hire a car and they would drive to London.

Ginny kissed the top of Bonnie's head as she pulled the door shut behind her. "Come on Bon-bon. It's time to start our new life."

~GWHP~

It had taken five hours to get to the outskirts of London from the town in the north where Ginny had been living for the last three and a half years. They had spent three-quarters of an hour at a roadside inn having a meal and ironing out the kinks caused by inactivity and the close-confines of a car.

Bonnie, excited by the trip, had chattered like a little magpie from her booster seat in the back, but she had fallen asleep within fifteen minutes of the resumption of their journey after the meal. Considering she had never been on a long car journey, the little girl had been remarkably well-behaved.

Harry could not help but notice that the closer they got to London, Ginny, who had happily let her daughter fill the confines of the car with her chatter until she had fallen asleep, had become totally silent. Harry could feel the tension rolling off her in waves.

"Not long now," he said just loud enough to be heard over the quiet swish of the tyres on the road. Ginny reluctantly dragged her eyes away from the sweep of road illuminated by the headlights; she appeared to be blind to the rest of the traffic and the urban lights and activity. She smiled weakly and returned her gaze to the road.

"So," Harry continued resolutely. He really wanted to put Ginny at her ease. "What was with your landlady calling you 'Virginia'? I know you used to get pretty steamed if anyone ever made that mistake when you were at Hogwarts."

"I changed my name... when I left. I thought it would be harder to find me if Ginny Weasley no longer existed. So, I became Virginia Wesley."

Harry didn't say anything. It struck him anew however, just how desperate Ginny had to have been to leave everything she knew behind and to wipe out her previous existence by changing her identity. Ginevra Weasley, witch, had become Virginia Wesley, Muggle. The silence now seemed to be oppressive; Harry sensed guilt as well as apprehension.

"There's no need to be worried, you know," he said. "I've charmed your rooms so that if anyone from the family visits—and they do on occasion—you will remain undetected. You're on the first floor in the room that you and Hermione stayed in when we were all there with the Order. I've put up Repelling and Imperturbable charms as well as a variation on the Disillusionment Charm. Anyone who passes the door will be unable to hear anything, but they will also not notice the door."

"Why didn't you just put us on the top floor?" asked Ginny. If I remember correctly, that's where Sirius kept Buckbeak, didn't he? Surely no one goes up there very much."

"Yeah, Sirius did keep Buckbeak up there. It was his parent's room. But Ron's had that room since he moved in... and Hermione of course, when she stayed. Besides, I didn't want Bonnie having to contend with that many stairs. I've made changes over the years... the room that is now yours has an ensuite bathroom, and I've turned the big storage cupboard on one side into a separate room for Bonnie that only opens into your room; I removed the door that opens onto the landing."

Ginny was flabbergasted at the trouble Harry had apparently gone to. It had been less than two weeks ago that she had summoned him to beg him to help her; and now, here she was, within minutes of arriving at her new home... Harry's home. He had risen to the occasion magnificently, but then again, he was Harry Potter: the Boy who lived, The chosen One, and perhaps other titles that may have been bestowed upon him since she had left the Wizarding World.

Five minutes later they had pulled up in Grimmauld Square and fighting down her panic, Ginny looked out at an entirely different facade to the one she remembered from her previous stays here, not that she had seen the front of number twelve all that often. She knew she could only see it because she was magical, and though this small proof of her heritage made her heart leap, it also increased her panic.

Harry looked across at her; he knew that her stress level was off the scale, but only time would calm her down. When she realised that he was not going to throw her to the wolves, she would settle into this chapter of her new life and then he could only hope that time and circumstance would enhance her desire to rejoin her family.

Harry got out of the car and walked around to open Ginny's door. On legs that felt like rubber, she shakily exited the comfortable hire car to stand on the grimy asphalt, her eyes still fixed on the white brickwork and the royal blue door. Ginny knew that the clean and bright facade had to have been accomplished with magic because it would have looked very strange to see people painting the front of a house that wasn't there. The blank, clean windows looked down on them with bored indifference; the house that had once been the bastion of a very opinionated, pure-blood family was totally unconcerned that two new tenants were taking up residence.

Ginny rubbed her arms in the cold, evening air and Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "It's going to be fine, Gin. I know it's a big change for you, but you don't have to worry that the house is still the hostile, gungy environment that it was before. It's a normal house... well, normal for a wizard's house, anyway."

Harry opened the back door of the car and carefully unbuckled the restraint protecting Bonnie and gently gathered the little girl into his arms. Her brow furrowed and she emitted a little groan, but she did not awaken. Without another word, Harry crossed the square, leaving Ginny to follow at her own pace; there was nothing else he could say to put her at her ease, she had to come to terms with things on her own now. As he walked up the four steps to the landing, he clearly heard Ginny's footfalls as she finally followed him.

Harry reached into his pocket and touched his wand before touching the large gleaming doorknob in the middle of the door. Ginny had hurried up the steps behind Harry and she distinctly heard the _snick_ of the door unlocking. Harry pushed the door open and stepped back for Ginny to precede him into the house, but Ginny was looking back at the square where a couple walking their dog walked past, oblivious of the people on the landing of number twelve.

"Is the house still under the Fidelius Charm?" she whispered, staring after the couple; even the dog had not looked back at them.

"No, not Fidelius. But the house still has many enchantments on it that make it unnoticeable to Muggles. Once you're on the landing, you're hidden by those enchantments too." Harry gestured through the open door. "After you," he said casually.

Ginny took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold of her new home, the first magical establishment she had been in for three and a half years... a fact bought home to her by the lamps along the length of the hallway flaring into life. If she had not known better, she would have thought she was in an entirely different house. The horrible green flock wallpaper had been removed and the walls were a beautiful, restful eggshell blue which was offset by the white of the deep skirting boards, the carved cornices and the ceiling. The lamps were half globes of embossed glass that diffused the soft light upwards. The honey tones of the hardwood floor was covered the full length of the hallway by a beautiful blue, and scarlet carpet runner.

"Come on." Harry spoke close to her ear. I'll show you up to your room and we can put Bonnie down... I don't think she'll wake up until the morning." Harry led the way up the stairs which were also covered with the same runner that graced the hallway.

Even though Harry had told her that the house had been cleaned and decontaminated, Ginny found herself staring at the spot on the wall at the base of the stairs where Walburga Black's foul, shrill and opinionated portrait had once hung. She was also thrilled to see that the elf-heads lining the staircase had been removed. Now, the walls had been graced with paintings, mostly depicting bucolic country scenes; the whole was homey and peaceful and very, very attractive. Ginny wondered if Harry was solely responsible for the decor or whether perhaps Hermione had helped him.

Another question to add to the ever-expanding list.

The first landing was as different to Ginny's recollection as the hallway was; the trim was the same bright white as below, as were all of the doors opening onto the landing, but the walls here were a soft green, little more than a pale wash. Harry had opened the door to the room Ginny recognised as the one she and Hermione had shared all those years ago.

She stood in the open door and her lips parted into a perfect 'O' of delighted surprise. It was beautiful... a room that any half feminine woman would love. The walls in here were a soft pink wash with a floral wallpaper runner gracing the walls at the height of the top of the doors. The ghastly dark furniture had been removed and a modern setting, including the bed, and bedside drawers, a dressing table and a tallboy and large wardrobe had taken up residence. There was also a beautiful, squashy chintz covered chair angled in a corner. The soft furnishings were the same floral as the wallpaper; the effect was pretty, light and airy.

Harry had disappeared through a door that had not been there in 1995. When Ginny could drag herself away from the changed room which was going to be her room for who knew how long, she crossed the soft, dusty-pink carpet and stood at the door and surveyed the small room Harry had set up for her daughter.

The carpet carried through into here. A little bed with a head and base carved with fairies, birds and vines stood against the far wall. Harry was removing a very floppy Bonnie's coat, and shoes. Ginny stood and watched as he covered her daughter up and bent to kiss her cheek... he might have been her father.

_**Why**__ couldn't he have been her father?_

Ginny's lips tightened and her eyes prickled. She crossed her arms tightly around her midriff and turned away, stumbling to the bed and lowering herself onto the edge. She watched as Harry reached behind the door to hang the little pink parka up; Ginny assumed there was a peg on the back of the door. When he pulled the door fully open again, Ginny noticed the individual letters in different pastel colours, making up Bonnie's name, adhered to the wall above the bed. Like everything she had seen to date, the little room was beautiful; as with her room, a great deal of trouble had been taken to make it perfect. Harry had taken into account that Bonnie and Ginny had always slept in the same room and he had managed to keep them together while giving them their own space. She knew she was never going to be able to repay him for his thoughtfulness.

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed next to Ginny but he didn't try to touch her. She continued to stare at the tiny hump her daughter made under the patchwork covered duvet. She widened her eyes to try and stop the tears that were gathering there from falling. "You've done so much," she whispered in a quavering voice. "Why would you do all this?"

Harry didn't answer for a while; he too stared through the open door at the little body curled up under the pretty duvet. Finally he said, "I think it's time to give yourself permission to be happy."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **The usual disclaimer applies.

Chapter 8

As Harry struggled into his jeans after his shower, grimacing as they clung to his damp legs, his thoughts were centred on his current house-mate and her daughter. Ginny was content to see Bonnie so happy and carefree, but Ginny herself was far from happy. Harry liked to think that he was fully attuned to the very attractive redhead's thoughts, but the truth was much more mundane... unhappiness was written all over her face.

Oh, she tried to put on a cheerful front; it was painful to watch just how hard she did try. The performance was enough to satisfy Bonnie that all was well in her little world, but Harry was no longer fooled. And he could no longer fool himself.

He had dug them a really deep hole and as a result, they were all suffering... yes, even sweet little Bonnie, who only had a tiny little back garden to satisfy her natural craving for the outdoors. And even though Harry had erected a swing set, the sad fact was that it was still enclosed between three, ten foot high brick walls and the house. There was hardly enough room for the little girl to run off some of her inexhaustible supply of energy. The fact that it was winter and excursions outside were not always possible due to the cold and wet, was the only thing that made the situation Ginny and Bonnie were in semi-tolerable.

Harry snatched up his glasses and strode into the bedroom thrusting them angrily onto the bridge of his nose. He rummaged in a drawer and found a pair of clean socks, but he was so angry with himself, he had to rip one off his foot after struggling to get it on because the heel ended up on the top of his foot. After correcting this misstep, he stamped his foot down into his trainer before bending and yanking the lace tight. It broke. Harry shut his eyes and threw himself back on the bed, cursing long and fluently. He ripped off his glasses and threw his arm over his eyes.

The simple fact was, he should have put more consideration into his plan to help her after Ginny summoned him and begged for his assistance. He should have kept a cool head, but ultimately, his heart and his hormones had ruled the day. Instead of letting common sense prevail, he had jumped in with both feet and offered her a home with him! As a result of his idiocy and his selfishness, Ginny and her daughter were practically under house arrest and he had unwittingly isolated himself from the Weasleys almost as thoroughly as Ginny had isolated herself from her family all those years ago.

Ginny was too fearful to go out and explore London because she was afraid of running into a magical person who might recognise her. Grimmauld Place was only about half a mile from Charring Cross and the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. Most witches and wizards entered the magical shopping precinct through the inn and at least half entered from the street rather than Flooing in. There were several convenient, isolated places where people could Apparate to rather than having to wait until the Floo was free. Shop and business owners could Floo directly into their own premises, but many of the wizarding community who visited Diagon Alley entered from Charring Cross Road. And these days it was much more common to see magical folk abroad in Muggle London. People were no longer afraid to show their liking for Muggle goods and Muggle entertainment, and Muggle-borns and half-bloods no longer had to hide their predilection for the non-magical part of their heritage.

One of the isolated places where wizards could Apparate to was the square in Grimmauld Place, making it impossible for Ginny to even take her daughter across there to play. Harry had tried to convince her that no one would take any notice of her, but she was too nervous, and so the delights of the capitol went unexplored. It was a situation that Harry knew could not continue.

One or more of the Weasleys usually dropped in on Harry on a regular basis and his Floo and his front door had always been open to all of them, at any time; they were some of the select few who could cross Harry's protective enchantments.

But now Harry had had to exclude all of these people from having automatic access to his premises. He had changed the complicated enchantments that protected his home so that everyone, even Ron and Hermione, could not just enter without contacting him first. He had lied to the people he considered his family, taking the opportunity at a Sunday lunch at the Burrow—before Ginny had even moved in—to inform the clan that there was a threat against him and as a result, he had to exclude them from casual entrance to number twelve for the time being.

Harry had hated himself for the subterfuge, but he was not going to force Ginny to see her family... she had to come to that momentous decision in her own time. Oh, he would encourage her to see sense, but he could not force her.

But the problem was now going to get even more complicated... Ron and Hermione had been home for four days now, and though Harry had visited their new flat in Ottery Saint Catchpole, they had not dropped in on him here at Grimmauld Place. But they were both going back to work today, and though Harry had told them the same lie he had spun the rest of the family, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Ron wanted to drop around one lunchtime for a quick nosh and a chat. Harry could not keep on making excuses as to why his best mate should not visit.

He had warned Ginny that her brother or Hermione might possibly drop around unannounced. Of course, Ginny had been expecting someone to visit since she had arrived and she had assured Harry that she would be perfectly all right staying in her room with Bonnie if and when he had guests. Bonnie had plenty to occupy her and she, Ginny, would be perfectly content to read or to get on with some writing, something she had sadly neglected since her life had undergone such upheaval.

When Harry had first seen Ginny in the coffee-shop, she had been industriously writing in a Muggle exercise book and she had told him, when he had finally asked, that she was trying her hand at writing a children's book. When he had asked if he could see what she had written, she had refused, going very red when informing him that she wasn't ready to be critiqued... Harry had not pressed her. If writing helped to keep her from dying of boredom, he didn't have to feel quite so guilty if she was isolated in her room. Her writing, combined with the multitude of books he had bought for her—both wizarding and Muggle publications—and the many magazines, he kept her supplied with, were, he hoped, enough to stop her going around the twist.

Well, enough was enough. This arrangement was a total crock and he had to talk to Ginny; he had to fix this. With a sigh Harry put his glasses back on and sat up. He tied his shoes after mending the broken lace and then descended the stairs. As he passed Ginny's room, he saw that the door was ajar, which meant Ginny and Bonnie would already be in the kitchen.

Harry shook his head and continued his journey. She had done it again! She must have some sort of sixth sense. He had gotten up particularly early today, determined to beat Ginny to the kitchen. She had gotten it into her head that it was her job to be chief cook and bottle-washer, and Harry most definitely did not want her waiting on him! He knew she was doing it because she felt the need to pay him back somehow, and no matter how often he said he did not want or need paying back, she continued on her set path and got upset if Harry tried to take over the kitchen to cook their meal.

But when Harry entered the kitchen, it was empty. _What the hell?_ The Aga had been lit and the kettle was simmering, but there was no Ginny and no Bonnie. When Harry advanced further, he saw a sheet of parchment on the table, anchored by a knife. Harry snatched it up and scanned the neat lines of script quickly, sinking into a chair and allowing the sudden tension that had tightened his neck and shoulder muscles ease.

_Dear Harry,_

_Needed to get out of the house for a while. Got up early to go for a walk. I doubt many people will be out and about at this hour. Bonnie is of course with me. Don't worry. Back soon. We are nicely rugged up._

_Ginny. _

Harry scrunched up the note, and stood up to stride to the window. He had to clear the condensation before he could see anything, but the sight of the frost rimed grass and plants gleaming through the dim, early morning light made his jaw clench. It was bloody freezing out there! And it was barely light, now. It must have been full dark when they had left.

Harry tore out of the kitchen and raced towards the front door. He had dragged his coat off the hook near the door and had one arm in the sleeve when he became still. He stared unseeingly at the front door for several seconds, then he shut his eyes and sighed deeply before removing his coat and replacing it on the peg.

Ginny would think he was interfering if he went after her. She obviously needed some space and some of the great outdoors and this is how she had worked out she could go out without fear of being seen by any of the magical community. It was not foolproof, but it was safer than walking abroad in broad daylight.

Harry returned to the kitchen and put some bread on to toast before making himself a cup of tea and standing at the window to watch the feeble sun strengthen the light from low in a pearly-grey sky. He ate his toast standing at the window, and when Delilah and his own owl, Darcy showed up after a night of hunting, he let them in and gave them some owl treats, before they retired to their respective perches and put their heads under their wings to sleep the day away. Now that there were two owls living in his kitchen, Harry was doubly pleased that he had applied an automatic Vanishing Charm to the area beneath the perches so that when nature called, the droppings disappeared before they hit the floor.

He was pouring his third cup of tea and getting very antsy when he heard the front door open and close and the high pitched chatter of a free—err, three year old. Harry quickly pulled out a chair and sat down, making a concerted effort to look as if he had not been worried. It was a few minutes before Bonnie bounced into the kitchen with Ginny following close behind.

"Harry!" Bonnie rushed across the room and threw herself at Harry, who only just managed to lower his cup to the table to free his hand so that he could scoop her into his arms. When she kissed him on the cheek, Harry flinched; her face and the little hands she framed his face with were freezing. Her cheeks were bright pink and her brown eyes were sparkling.

Harry looked over the top of the tousled moonbeam-coloured hair at the equally tousled woman who had moved to the Aga to warm her hands. "She's freezing Ginny," he said and he found it difficult to keep the disapproval out of his voice.

"She's fine," said Ginny calmly. "She had a wonderful time. We both did."

"It must have been fully dark when you left."

"Ginny sighed. "It was just starting to get light." She looked at Harry's tight expression and with a little moue of annoyance, she crossed to a cupboard and grabbed a box of cereal. "She was fine Harry. She was rugged up in a thick parka, a woollen hat under the parka hood, a scarf around her neck and lower face and a pair of gloves."

Harry knew Ginny's assertion that it was just getting light must have been a stretch because it was barely light when he had arrived in the kitchen, but he bit back any further comment; after all, it wasn't his place to dictate to Ginny what she should and shouldn't do with her daughter. With Bonnie chattering in his ear, he watched as Ginny prepared Bonnie's cereal then scooped her daughter off Harry's knee and plonked her on her own chair.

Bonnie bounced up and down on her seat, ignoring her breakfast. "Up, Harry, up!" she cried.

Ginny rolled her eyes and moved away to make some toast. "You've created a monster, you know?" she said dryly, as Harry drew out his wand and with an exaggerated flourish, he pointed it at the chair.

"_Prolato Cruris_!" he said in a dramatic voice and Bonnie squealed with delight as she moved upwards about eighteen inches. The chair legs had lengthened and the little girl was now sitting in a highchair.

"Again!" she demanded, but Ginny immediately tamped down the excitement with a stern, "Eat your breakfast, Bonnie".

"You know the rules, Kewpie," added Harry, stowing his wand again. "When you've finished, you can ride the chair down again." Bonnie sighed dramatically, but she picked up her spoon and began to eat her breakfast with gusto.

"Wow, the fresh air has really given her an appetite." There was still a slight note of reprimand in Harry's voice that Ginny immediately picked up on.

"We each had a banana before we left, Harry, _and_, I took some biscuits and..." Ginny picked up a thermos and shook it ostentatiously, "some hot chocolate." Setting the thermos on the sink, she finished putting some honey on Bonnie's toast and plonked it on the table with more force than was necessary.

She glared at Harry. "I don't need you to tell me how to bring up my daughter!"

Harry looked away, focusing on Bonnie as she dragged the plate of toast towards her and delicately picked up a quarter, her little pinkie sticking up in the air. He was suitably chastened. Why hadn't he kept his mouth shut? Ginny too, seemed to think she had said enough because she ducked her head and crossed to the Aga.

"Would you like another cup of tea and some toast?" she asked quietly. More because he wanted to show he also did not wish to prolong hostilities, than because he needed anything else to drink, Harry said 'yes please'.

~HPGW~

The desired talk never eventuated that morning. Harry did not want to upset Ginny again, and he had an appointment at Hogwarts in the afternoon, so the whole day was really a washout as far as this plan went.

After breakfast, he played with Bonnie in the drawing room while Ginny had a shower and Harry's guilt over what he had done with his selfish longing to have Ginny and Bonnie stay with him eased a little when he saw how happy and untroubled the little girl was.

Harry had fallen hard for the three year old and he felt sure that she looked upon him as a permanent fixture in her life. He hoped so anyway, but of course, how close he and Bonnie would ultimately end up was entirely up to her mother. He could not imagine not having the little girl in his life though, and he most definitely could not imagine losing Ginny again.

Not that he really had Ginny, and he most likely never would, despite his intense feelings for her—feelings that strengthened on a daily basis—but at least he knew she was alive and well and she was within his orbit.

Harry was assisting Bonnie to colour in a drawing in her 'Magical Creatures' colouring book when a silver flash streaked through the open door and resolved itself into a small dog which sat back on its haunches and opened its mouth to speak with Ron's voice.

"Open the bloody door, you tosser! I've been hammering for five minutes!"

Bonnie's eyes had gone wide when the Jack Russell appeared and she cried out and clapped her hands with delight when it spoke. But her delight turned to disappointment when the bright creature faded to nothing and she spun her head around to face Harry. "Bring the doggy back, Harry! Bring it back!"

But Harry just scooped Bonnie into his arms and hurriedly carried her out of the drawing room and along the landing to Ginny's rooms where he banged on the door repeatedly with the side of his clenched fist.

"Harry, I want the doggy back." Bonnie was looking over Harry's shoulder back towards the drawing room, still lamenting the disappearance of the Patronus when Ginny pulled her door open.

Harry's breath caught before any words could emerge and he stared at Ginny. She had obviously just gotten out of the shower; her hair was tightly wrapped in a towel and her petite body was enshrouded in a large bath sheet that was anchored just above her breasts and hung to her knees. Her face and the visible skin of her neck, shoulders, upper chest and arms were rosy pink and she looked utterly delectable. Harry felt his body react to the sight of so much feminine glory, and before Ginny could notice how tight the front of jeans had become, he unceremoniously thrust Bonnie into her arms.

"Harry...what...!"

"Sorry," he said thickly. "Ron's at the door."

"Mummy, there was a doggy..."

"He's been hammering for ages. He sent his Patronus to let me know he's here," gasped Harry, his throat still blocked by the lump that had developed when his imagination had gone into overdrive, conjuring a picture of exactly what lay beneath that towel.

Ginny was oblivious to Harry's dilemma; she had gone pale under her heated skin at Harry's announcement and she squeezed Bonnie tightly to her.

"I'll get rid of him as fast as I can," Harry threw over his shoulder as he raced back to the drawing room. There, he spent several seconds spelling any errant toys into a box sitting in the furthest corner, which in turn he disillusioned. The Disillusionment Charm was so strong, the box was totally invisible, even to himself.

When Harry pulled the front door open two minutes after Ron had sent his Patronus, Ron had just raised his fist to bash on the door again and his face was nearly puce. Ron nearly lost his balance trying to pull his fist back so that he didn't smash Harry in the face. He looked as if he would have _liked_ to smash his fist into his best friend's face, but he made do with glaring daggers before he shouldered his way past Harry and strode down the hallway and disappeared down the basement stairs. Harry followed, taking a deep breath to help gird his loins.

Ron was pacing back and forth like a caged lion when Harry entered the kitchen. He ignored the histrionics and moved to the Aga where the kettle sat. He hefted it to check the water level and then he pointed his wand at it to bring it to an instant boil.

"Sit down Ron, before you wear a track in the flagstones," Harry said as he summoned two mugs from the overhead cupboard. "I didn't expect you quite so early. I was going to waylay you at the shop at lunchtime."

"Bloody hell, Harry," exclaimed Ron, pulling off his down-filled parka and dumping it on the table before throwing himself into a chair. "What is this crap?"

Harry took his time answering, concentrating on making the drinks. "I explained the problem to..."

"What? The garbage you spouted about a threat?!" Harry put a steaming mug down in front of Ron who made no move to pick it up.

"Since when have you run from some unknown tosser? What is this bloody threat? Do you think that any of us would allow anyone to enter these premises with us?"

"You might not have a choice in the matter."

"None of us are exactly defenceless, Harry," bit out Ron. "We've all had a bit of practice with defensive and offensive magic, you know." Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He had known that Ron and Hermione would be the flies in the ointment. Of course they would. This had been their home as long as it had been his home, and now he was restricting their comings and goings. Before they had married, Harry had told them that as far as he was concerned, Grimmauld Place was still their home and they were welcome, anytime. To stay... to visit... whatever.

And now... What could he say? He continued to stare at the ceiling until Ron called his attention back with an angry, "Harry!"

"Ron, what do you want me to say?"

"Since when have you ever run scared, for Merlin's sake? Harry, this is utter bollocks!"

"Kingsley has some Aurors on it. I'm sure it will be cleared up soon."

"What is this bloody threat? Are you doing anything to investigate it yourself?"

Harry now stood up and began pacing. What in the hell could he say? He rubbed his eyes, dislodging his glasses. Ron knew this was all total bullshit.

"Ron, do you trust me?"

Ron's angry expression morphed into bewilderment. "What kind of a bloody stupid question is that? Shit Harry!"

"Do you?"

"Of course I trust you, you tosser."

"I'm asking you to trust me now. I can't tell you why I've changed the wards. Not yet."

Ron stared. When Harry just stared back, Ron swallowed. "This is really weird, Harry. I mean, even for you, this is _really_ weird."

Harry sighed and nodded. "I know. When I can tell you, I will. Just don't spread it around the rest of the family, OK. Just Hermione."

Ron shook his head bemusedly. "Do I have a choice?"

Harry shook his head. "And try to stop Hermione coming around and giving me the third degree."

Ron took a gulp of his tea. "So when can we come around?"

"Believe me, I'll let you know."

"So when will we see you?"

"I'll come to you. And I'll be at the Burrow for Sunday lunches. Everything will stay the same, except your new digs and the shop will be the meeting place of choice for a while."

Harry sat down and took up his own mug. Ron eyed him dubiously as Harry drank. "You've got a bird here," he said after a minutes silent reflection.

Harry sighed again and rubbed his left eye. "I... I have a boarder, yes. And for reasons I can't go into, this person wishes to stay... well, to stay incommunicado."

Ron looked at Harry incredulously, then he leaned forward across the table. "You're not harbouring a criminal?" he hissed. "Merlin's bollocks, Harry!"

"No, Ron. I'm not harbouring a criminal."

"Then you've got a bird you..."

"Give it a rest, Ron. I can't _bloody _tell you. Not yet." Harry grabbed Ron's mug and carried it and his own to the sink.

Ron stared at Harry's back while Harry concentrated on washing the pattern off the china. It was easier if he wasn't looking at his best mate. He heard Ron sigh and lever himself to his feet.

"OK, I can see that there's no point in hassling you any... _what the hell!_"

Harry spun around. Ron was striding to the back door and it only took Harry an instant to realise what had happened. "_Ron!_"

Harry knew it was too late. He rushed after the lanky redhead but Ron was already standing with his hands on his hips staring at the swing set.

_How could I have been so stupid as to forget the frigging swing set?_ Harry thought desperately.

Ron ran a hand over the cold, red painted metal of the frame.

"Ron... I..."

"I gather that this person who wishes to remain..." Ron turned around to face Harry. "What was it you said... incommunication?"

"Incommunicado."

"Right. Incommunicado. I take it that this person has a kid?"

Harry shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and hunched his shoulders, as much against the cold as Ron's question.

"No point in me denying it, is there?" he said weakly.

Ron stared intently at Harry. "Is this kid yours, Harry?"

Harry ground his back teeth together, all the while glaring at his friend. He wasn't sure if he was angry at Ron because of his question, or because he _wished_ Bonnie was his.

"No, Ron. This kid is not mine. The child belongs to a friend I am helping out of a jam."

"Then what's the problem with us meet..."

"_Ron_! Enough with the questions!" Harry turned his back on Ron and headed back into the house. When Ron followed seconds later, there was no sign of Harry in the kitchen. Ron ascended the stairs and saw Harry at the front door; he had slung his scarf around his neck and was pushing an arm into a sleeve of his cashmere coat.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron.

"I have an appointment with Snape," said Harry in a tight voice.

Ron stared at Harry and then thrust his bunched fists into his jeans' pockets. "Look, I know that you're shitty with me, but hell, Harry, what am I supposed to think? All this subterfuge and then you tell me that you have a couple of houseguests and we're not allowed to meet them."

Harry pulled the front door open and stalked out into the still bitter morning.

Ron swore and held the door open. Keeping one eye on Harry who did not seem in a hurry to race off, he pulled his wand and summoned his parka. As soon as he plucked the coat out of the air in front of him, he cast a frustrated look towards the upper levels of the house where Harry's guests must even now be hiding before he followed Harry out the door, pulling it shut behind him. He heard the wards activate as he joined Harry on the pavement and Harry watched dispassionately as Ron struggled into his coat.

When he was all bundled up, Ron took note of Harry's unyielding expression. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and raised his arms and slapped them down at his sides. "Stop acting as if I've betrayed you..."

"You _have_ betrayed me, Ron. You've betrayed my trust!"

Ron's lips tightened and his ears began to redden. With jerky movements he tried to do up his zip. When he couldn't even get the two bottom tabs joined up, he swore. He looked back at Harry and shook his head. "No, Harry, you've betrayed _our_ trust." And ignoring the flapping sides of his jacket, Ron stepped back onto the top step where he was invisible to any Muggles who may be looking, and Disapparated with a loud, angry _crack._.

Harry stared at the empty space where his best friend had just been standing then he turned and walked briskly across the road and entered the gateway into the square. A minute later, a much softer _pop_ carried on the frosty air as Harry too, Disapparated.

~GWHP~

After Harry had stridden into the square, Ginny remained standing at the partially open window of her bedroom; she was partly hidden by the drapes, but the sumptuous fabric had blocked neither her view nor her hearing. When the soft pop of Harry's Disapparition just barely reached her ears, she finally moved to shut the window before crossing to her bed and lowering herself onto the edge. She stared off into space, seemingly oblivious to her daughter sitting on the carpeted floor, trying to get the spindly arms of a small 'Snow White' doll into the tight sleeves of a blue and yellow dress.

Ron had hardly changed at all. Ginny's heart had leapt into her throat when her brother had joined Harry on the pavement. She had just been gazing into space, feeling slightly claustrophobic sequestered as she was in her room and knowing that Ron was in the house, and she had needed to breathe in the bitingly cold air through the window she had partially opened. When Harry had appeared below, she had automatically moved behind the curtain just in case he had looked up. She had stared down at his dark, untidy hair and the familiar longing was instantly upon her.

Since Harry had come back into her life, Ginny had become very good at hiding her reaction to his presence when they were together, but just then, with him being none the wiser, she had allowed herself to look her fill. She no longer tried to convince herself that the effect Harry had on her was anything more than what a healthy young woman who had denied herself any kind of sexual stimulation for going on four years, and who was enjoying looking at an attractive man, would feel. But she really knew that there was only one man who could make her feel like this. There had been no shortage of attractive men coming into the coffee shop when she worked there, but none of them had made her sit up and take notice.

This was how she had felt whenever she was around Harry for as far back as she could remember. These emotions had been frightening when she had first met him when she was ten and for the next year or so, but when her hormones had kicked into gear and let her know what it was to be a female... a woman, she had graduated from a preteen's crush to a young woman's love. It had been love then, and it was love now.

Back then, in that other life, Harry had been oblivious to her as anything but his best friend's sister—he had treated her like a little sister himself—and when his sights had settled on Cho Chang, Ginny had wanted to curl up and die.

She hadn't died... instead, she had gone down the route that she had always despised in other girls who employed the method... she had tried to make Harry notice her by dating one of his friends. And when that had failed to elicit any reaction from him, she had gone one step further and begun dating his worst enemy instead.

The sight of Ron joining Harry on the pavement had wrenched Ginny's thoughts away from this forbidden topic. It was a subject she had always refused to think about and when she found her thoughts heading in that particular direction, Ginny would immediately begin a task that made retrospection almost impossible... lately, reading to, or doing a puzzle with Bonnie did the trick but before Bonnie was born and before she was old enough to comprehend, Ginny would begin cleaning with a frenzy that bordered on manic, or else she would attempt to cook a complicated recipe.

If the thought and sight of Harry made Ginny think that she would die of longing and frustration, these hated reminiscences almost always gave her palpitations and a hatred so intense would fill her to the point where she thought she would explode with fury and self-hatred.

As Ginny sat on the bed she thought of the scene she had just witnessed on the pavement below her window. Both Harry and Ron had seemed stiff and awkward, but the words they had thrown at each other confirmed that they were angry with each other. Ron was angry that Harry was keeping secrets and Harry... well, Harry was doing what he always did... he was ignoring his own wishes and instincts to cater to her needs. And it was causing problems with his best friend.

Ginny had always known how hard it would be for Harry to keep this huge secret from her family and she had shamelessly relied on his sense of honour. She had pushed how uncomfortable Harry must feel about the situation to the back of her mind... she had only thought of herself and her own needs. But now, seeing the confrontation between the two best friends made her realise that she could not continue to make these demands on the man she loved.

But that was not the only thing about the scene down on the pavement that had affected her. Before she had left the wizarding world, the close relationship she had always enjoyed with the youngest of her brothers had virtually been in tatters. Her anger at him had been one of the things that had helped feed the impetus she had needed to make the move to leave her world behind and start a new life.

But none of that anger had surfaced when she had gazed down at her brother. Instead, a longing to tear through the house and throw the front door open and fling herself into Ron's long, gangly arms had overtaken her... she wanted to hug her brother, a member of her family. But fear had won the day. Ginny had let fear dictate her life in the past and she was still letting it rule her. She had stood by and watched as the two friends had parted in anger.

Ginny snapped back to the present when she felt something touch her face. Bonnie was kneeling beside her on the bed, and a little hand was touching her face. "Mummy, why are you crying?"

Ginny raised her own hand to her wet cheek. She had been so lost in her miserable thoughts, tears had flowed without her knowledge. Pulling her worried daughter into her arms, Ginny buried her face against the little chest and allowed her misery to overflow.

A little hand patted her back, and a frightened little voice said, "Don't cry, Mummy. It'll be all right. Harry will make it all right"

**TBC... **

A/N: _Prolato Cruris: _Lengthen legs. (I am sure it is technically wrong.)

A big thank you to ObsidianEmbrace, not only for her beta-ing assistance, but for encouraging me to keep on going even though writing has not been easy lately. Thanks Tab.

If you have gotten this far, hopefully any annoyance with me for the long wait, will have been appeased. Unless of course, you think it was all crap.

Please review.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Only Bonnie and the plot are figments of my imagination. The rest belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting in a monetary sense from this endeavour. My only reward is the pleasure I hope I am giving my readers.

Chapter 9

"_Potter!_" Harry jumped and blinked. He dragged his eyes away from the single stone in the wall of Severus Snape's dungeon quarters. He had been trying to drill a hole through it with his intense stare for the past fifteen minutes.

Harry looked at Severus, his eyebrows raised and his eyes opened wide in question. He shook his head slightly and raised his hands, palms up, as if to ask, 'What?'.

Severus rolled his eyes and shook his own head. He pushed himself away from the large table with its piles of books, rolls of parchment, scattered quills and bottles of ink. He stalked to the fireplace and reached for a handful of glittering green powder from a tarnished bronze urn on the mantel and threw it upon the merrily crackling flames and called for the kitchens.

Harry half listened as his companion ordered refreshments. He put his hands behind his head and stretched the bunched muscles in his upper back and neck while he wearily focused his gaze on the top most sheet of parchment half covered in fresh writing. He idly pulled it towards himself. Severus had crossed to one of the numerous bookcases flanking the walls in the crowded, dark apartment and began leafing through a pile of yellowing newspapers.

"I don't know what your problem is today Potter, but I had thought—hoped beyond measure actually—that I would never again be subjected to that nauseating gormless look that used to grace your uninspiring countenance when you were my student. But it appears it was not lost, only misplaced."

"Sod off, Snape," said Harry, but his voice was without heat. In fact, it sounded lifeless.

Severus returned to the table and began thumbing through the tattered newspaper he had secured from the pile. He glanced over the top of the yellowing pages and studied the young man sitting opposite him. Harry was staring at the recently written words covering half the length of parchment but it was obvious to Severus that he was looking but not seeing.

Something was definitely troubling the boy; Severus still viewed the fresh-faced young man as a boy—in fact, it boggled his mind that Harry did not look twenty years older than he actually was after all that he had been through in his short but eventful life.

Occasionally, out of long-standing habit, Severus still tried to convince himself that Harry was the same boy he had loved to hate with a passion throughout his six years at Hogwarts as a student, but even though he usually spoke as though he was still bedevilled by James Potter's progeny, the truth was no longer so black and white.

Both their lives had changed irrevocably on that fateful May day nearly two and a half years ago when the Chosen One had fulfilled his destiny and disposed of the Dark Lord a couple of hours after he, Severus had almost been disposed of himself.

When he had awoken in St Mungo's two weeks after history had been made, he had learned that within an hour of Harry having killed his nemesis, he had managed to escape the adoring masses celebrating his victory over evil to return to the Shrieking Shack to retrieve the body of his most hated Professor, only to discover said Professor was still clinging to life, if only barely.

The next months had been far easier than Severus could ever have imagined, if he had ever been able to imagine that he would survive the war. He had never envisioned a life free of the Dark Lord, unless it was to see himself rotting away in Azkaban until he drew his last harsh breath or the Dementors sucked his soul.

But he had not reckoned on Kingsley Shacklebolt being the Minister for Magic and he had certainly never imagined that Harry Potter would be his advocate. At the time, Potter speaking out on his behalf had rankled, but it had not been long before common-sense had prevailed; Severus was not stupid, if it was a choice between being beholden to Harry Potter or being imprisoned he would owe the brat.

Regardless of Severus's mixed feelings, Potter's acclaim and his newly cemented position as the hero of the Wizarding World had eventually made the powers-that-be sit up and listen when he had proclaimed his former Professor's innocence.

The dinosaurs who had been members of the Wizengamot since time began had hummed and haaghed and they could not see past Severus' past unsavoury reputation, despite the pensieved memories that Harry had kept safe and Albus' portrait's corroborating testimony. They had insisted that the memories could have been tampered with, but Harry had been able to inform them that he had seen memories that _had_ been altered and that it was impossible not to be able to detect such tampering.

Pensieves were not an everyday commodity in the Wizarding World and few of the members of the Wizengamot had ever seen one, let alone accessed memories with the aid of one. Three of the older members had seen Dumbledore's pensieve because he had shown it to them a short time after he had invented it.

Harry had known he should not have been surprised that the beautiful shallow stone basin was a Dumbledore creation. The pensieve now resided in Severus's bedroom; the headmaster had bequeathed it to his friend and ally, hoping desperately that the young man would survive the war.

As Dumbledore had disposed of Horace Slughorn's altered memory, Harry had dragged the very reluctant Potions Professor before the Wizengamot to testify that he had indeed altered an incriminating memory and he had, reluctantly, shown exactly how he had done it and what an altered memory looked like. Of course Slughorn had baulked at showing how he may have aided and abetted the sixteen year old Tom Riddle, but the 'Boy-Who-Defeated-the-Dark-Lord' had proven to be a much more determined and persuasive figure than the 'Boy-Who-Lived', or the previously purported 'Chosen One' had ever been.

The clincher had come when Dumbledore's portrait had backed up everything that Harry had told the Wizengamot, and then to reinforce their grudgingly made decision, Harry had shown them his memories of the horrific scene he had witnessed in the Shrieking Shack, of Voldemort's attempt to murder Severus by means of his snake, even though he had always been convinced the wizard was loyal to him.

They were suitably shocked, those witches and wizards who held the power of life and liberty over the magical community in their hands but who on the whole, kept themselves safe and well away from any conflict. Many of them had their homes protected by the Fidelius Charm in an effort to protect them and their families from the unsavoury elements they often had to deal with.

Kingsley had taken advantage of the stunned atmosphere to wrap up the week long proceedings, and while Severus was still more or less semiconscious in St Mungo's, the Minister for Magic had directed the Wizengamot to declare that Severus Snape did not have a case to answer in the matter of the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Kingsley had also refused to consider the wishes of the few remaining die-hards determined to bring down the young man who had made a serious miscalculation when he had been sixteen years old; they wanted him imprisoned for one crime or another and his Death Eater activities had been, once again, dragged to the fore. Kingsley had, by this time been seriously displeased and he had stated unequivocally that Mr Snape had previously been tried for those crimes and had been cleared by this august body of witches and wizards; Kingsley was not above pandering to over-inflated egos.

Ignoring the continuing geriatric rumblings of the mostly over ninety brigade who had made up much of the Wizengamot at that time, Kingsley had gone on to refresh their faulty memories by reiterating that Severus had, since his Death Eater days, worked for Albus Dumbledore in the prestigious position of Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before the rebirth of the dark wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort. He emphasised that during that time, Severus Snape had freely, and knowing full well the inherent danger, acted as a spy for Albus Dumbledore and his secret organisation, the Order of the Phoenix, a group of witches and wizards recruited by Dumbledore specifically to fight the Dark Lord, Voldemort and his minions.

Kingsley and Harry had finally won the day and Severus Snape had remained a free man whose name had been wholly cleared, and though there were those who would never forget that Severus Snape had once been a Death Eater, because of Harry's heartfelt testimonial, the majority of the Wizarding World was willing to give the man a second chance.

Severus remembered how ungrateful he had been when all of these happenings had been related to him, first by Kingsley, and then Harry. Kingsley had not felt Severus's wrath, but 'the Chosen One' had. That Harry had had the audacity to show his, Severus' private memories to all and sundry had infuriated Severus to the point of violence, and if he had been strong enough, he would have likely strangled the little sod.

Instead he had expended the small amount of energy he had venting his spleen in vociferous terms, abusing Harry up hill and down dale for exposing his deepest desires and regrets where they concerned the woman he had loved since his earliest days.

Severus remembered that Harry had quickly cast a Silencing Charm over the single ward at St Mungo's and then he had stood silent and allowed hurricane Severus to rage around him. It wasn't until he had collapsed back against his pillows, totally done in by his loud and vocal calisthenics that Harry had approached the bed and placed two vials on the bedside cabinet. Severus had eyed them suspiciously before turning his glare back upon the boy.

The following exchange had bored into his brain like a termite boring into wood and Severus remembered it word for word because the feelings of shame it had engendered were as fresh today as they had been then.

"And what, pray tell are those?" he had asked scathingly.

"Those," Harry had replied, his voice carefully blank, "Are the memories you gifted me with as you lay dying in the Shrieking Shack.

"These..." Harry picked up the slightly smaller vial, "Are all of the memories that contain any reference to my mother. I carefully separated them from the whole before I showed the rest to the Wizengamot."

Severus remembered his brow had settled into deep lines and his glower almost had the power to occlude the sun that shone through the small window and fell across the foot of his bed. "And why would you do that?"

"Because I no more wanted my mother and your relationship with her becoming the subject of speculation and gossip than you did." When Severus had remained silent, Harry had continued.

"All the rest of your memories are in there..." he shook the second vial, "Except for your distressing first meeting with Dumbledore. And..." Harry had paused and Severus had been intrigued to see the boy's face redden.

"And what, Potter?"

"Ummm, well, I'm afraid that I _did_ tamper—_in a fashion_—with one of these remaining memories."

"_What_, the saviour of the Wizarding World isn't quite as pure as the driven snow as he would have people believe."

"I never pretended to be pure as the driven snow, Snape," Harry had bitten out, his temper fraying for the first time during their confrontation. "I didn't try to alter the contents of the memory, I just removed the bit where you and Dumbledore are talking just after...just after my mum and dad were killed. I didn't think you would want anyone seeing your grief. I've returned that bit though, so the memory's intact again."

Severus remembered that he had not thanked the boy. His glower had remained in place as Harry replaced the vial on the cabinet; Severus had known he had no occasion to glower because Harry had not been guilty of the crime he had accused him of. But it was just easier to act in the manner he was used to around the boy.

Harry had left the bedside and crossed to the door. When he opened it, he had turned for a final word. Severus remembered he had braced for a verbal onslaught, but Harry had remained calm and quietly respectful, a regard that he had known he did not deserve.

"Professor McGonagall has told me to tell you that she will be visiting you herself as soon as time permits, but in the meantime, she wants me to tell you that you are welcome back at Hogwarts any time you wish to return, be it as a visitor or a member of staff."

And finally. "I won't inflict my presence on you any longer; I accept that you loathe me and only helped me because of a promise you made to Dumbledore. But without you, I wouldn't be standing here now and I just want you to know I am grateful.

"I can't tell you that I am sorry my mum and dad ended up together, but I am sorry that you suffered and that your love for her came to nothing."

"I don't need your sympathy or your gratitude, Potter!"

"I know you don't. But you have them all the same."

And Severus remembered he had turned away from the intense young man and ordered him to remove himself from his sight. He remembered the door had shut quietly, leaving him with his increasingly sober thoughts.

Severus came back to the present when Harry placed the tray containing their afternoon tea on the table. He watched as the boy sure-handedly poured their tea. Harry did not need to ask how he took it; they had been intimates for a long time now.

Severus had stewed on his hateful words and unfair treatment of Harry for months after that encounter in St Mungo's. He had surprised himself by accepting Minerva's offer of employment at Hogwarts and he had taken up his old position of Potions Master and the new school year had recommenced amidst the rebuilding of the ancient edifice. Horace Slughorn had happily left to resume his interrupted retirement.

Being in regular contact with Hermione Granger who had returned—heroine status notwithstanding—to finish her studies, increased his ever-present feelings of guilt over his treatment of Harry Potter.

The fact that she did not once give him the evil eye—in fact, she was open and friendly to an annoying degree despite his standoffishness —told Severus that her best friend Potter had not told her what had transpired the last time he and Potter had met in St Mungo's.

Now, even watching the boy drink his tea with a return to his previous blank-eyed stare could not make Severus sorry that he had finally conquered his demons and turned up at Grimmauld Place to make his peace with his old enemy. It had taken nearly as much nerve to face Harry Potter again as he had always needed to dredge up every time he had found himself in the presence of the Dark Lord.

He needn't have worried that Lily's son would not extend the hand of friendship; the boy was as forgiving and open-hearted as Albus had always told him he was.

And now, here they were. Severus had thought he would try his hand at writing and as well as composing an intensive guide to Defence Against the Dark Arts, specifically directed towards dark wizards, he was also, with Harry's help, writing a treatise on the 'The Rise, the Fall, the Resurrection and the Final Destruction of a Dark Lord'.

Getting Harry to help had taken some persuasion. Harry had systematically refused to speak to any journalists or biographers since the final battle, though there had been a number of unofficial biographies written, all of them highly colourful and, Severus knew—though Harry had still not revealed the whole story to him—full of inaccuracies and even outright lies. Severus knew this because he had conversed with Hermione who had read them all, though the many colourful version of events and the even more colourful takes on the relationship between her, Ron and Harry disgusted her. She needed to know what was being printed about their ordeal. Harry refused to read any of them or listen to Hermione's rants about what was being printed; it frustrated the young woman almost beyond endurance that Harry allowed the lies to be read and digested by all and sundry.

Severus had approached him and after an initial and adamant refusal, they had argued back and forth until Severus had convinced Harry that he had no interest in writing about him Ron and Hermione and their heroic deeds, but that he wished to present an account of Tom Riddle and his determination to dominate wizards and Muggles alike and how—despite Harry's ultimate victory over him in the Great Hall that had ended the Battle of Hogwarts—he had been partly responsible for his own downfall.

Severus had pointed out with unfailing logic that now that Dumbledore was dead, he, Harry was the foremost authority on the Dark Lord and was the most likely the only person who really knew any of his history.

Harry had listened to Severus's proposal in irritated silence and then had sent him away, promising, though reluctantly, that he would think about it. It had been a month before he had knocked on Severus' door and told him he would collaborate on the work but that he did not wish to be a co-author. Severus did not think he would ever understand the boy's total reticence and need for privacy, especially after he had spent all of the boy's school years convincing himself that Harry was an attention-seeking glory hound.

Severus had now been working on the book for twelve months; it was slow going but he was in no particular hurry; the endeavour was more an exercise in exorcism than it was an attempt to present the Wizarding World with a weighty historical tome. Harry had turned up several hours a week when it was convenient for both of them. But today had more or less been an exercise in futility because it was more than obvious that Harry's thoughts were elsewhere and wherever that was, it was not a happy place.

Severus drained his cup and reached for the teapot again. Harry remained oblivious and Severus decided he had to act. In the process of reaching for the sugar, he knocked the small milk jug over. The cold liquid penetrated Harry's jeans and he jumped up, his chair skidding backwards and tipping over and his half-full cup of lukewarm tea slopping over the edge of the cup and soaking the cuff of his shirt sleeve. "What the hell?"

"Oops!" said Severus in a patently unconcerned voice. He crossed his leg and flicked at an imaginary piece of lint, before taking another sip of tea. "Sorry."

"You look it!" said Harry shortly. He scowled as he plonked his cup down on the table before removing his wand from its pocket in his jeans and waving it over himself to banish the milk stain and dry the fabric. "If I didn't know better, Snape, I'd say that you did that on purpose."

"I assure you it was an accident."

Harry dried off his sleeve and then the floor and the seat of his chair. "Bullshit!" he said as he sat back down and reached for the teapot. "You are the least clumsy person on the face of the Earth. Don't try and tell me that was an accident."

Severus shrugged. "Very well, I won't."

Harry put the teapot down with a little more force than necessary before he took a sip of the perpetually hot tea; the teapot was charmed. "So, are you going to enlighten me?"

Severus put his own cup on the tray then sat forward and began to organise his notes. "It's quite simple, Potter. You needed a wakeup call. You have been distinctly out of it today."

"There are other ways," grumbled Harry.

"I have tried to call you to order several times but you just float off again," said Severus matter-of-factly. I thought a bit of a shock was in order."

"Consider me shocked."

Silence fell as Harry finished his drink and Severus continued to shuffle parchment. When he picked up a quill and began to sharpen it, Harry stood and idly began to pace about. Severus was conscious that Harry was slipping back into introspection and after fashioning the quill point to his specific requirements, he banished the tea tray back to the kitchens and leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Potter, you can either tell me what the problem is or you can go home. Your presence today is stultifying to say the least."

Harry threw him a dirty look. Severus continued to look bored but in actual fact, he hoped that Harry would confide in him. Remarkably, considering how dark his earlier years had been, Harry was rarely morose or even bad tempered. Severus could hardly admit it to himself and he certainly would never admit it to anyone else but he did not like to see the boy like this.

Harry was standing staring into the fireplace with his hand over his lower face, rubbing his stubbly cheeks and jaw; it didn't seem as if Harry was going to open up. Severus sighed and stood up. "Let yourself out, Harry," he said over his shoulder as he headed for his bedroom. "Owl me when it's convenient for you to return."

He stopped with his hand clasped around the edge of the bedroom door and turned back to face harry. "Don't bother though until you've totally cast off this fugue. You're even managing to bring me down and we both know that's not a very long journey."

He turned to walk through the door but stopped when Harry spoke. "I do have a problem, but I don't know if I should talk about it."

Severus sighed and turned back into the living room. He sat down in his old and cracked leather armchair and putting his elbows on the arms, he interlaced his fingers in front of his mouth. "Have you ever heard the saying, 'a problem shared is a problem halved'?"

"Of course I have. But this isn't just my problem to share."

Silence fell again. Harry threw himself down in another, mismatched armchair. Severus waited but Harry didn't elaborate any further.

"Whatever this is, have you spoken to the Weasleys about it?" Severus was surprised when Harry's face coloured.

"No."

"Perhaps it would be easier to speak to your friends than try to talk to me."

"The Weasleys are the last ones I can talk to about this."

"Well, you obviously don't want to talk to me either."

"It's not that I don't want to," said Harry a little desperately.

"If it makes a difference, Harry, I can assure you that I would never betray your confidence."

Harry stared at Severus then shook his head a little. "I'm not worried about that." He leaned forward in the chair and clasped his hands between his knees. He began to speak, but he kept his eyes on his hands.

"You knew that Ginny Weasley disappeared at the end of the school year of 1997? After Dumbledore died." Harry's voice had faded away to almost nothing when he spoke of Dumbledore.

Severus frowned. He did not like to think of that time, nor the year following. But he hadknown that Ginevra Weasley had disappeared; it had been common knowledge even throughout the Dark Lord's Ministry and of course, the girl had not turned up for her sixth year at Hogwarts, even though attendance had been mandatory.

He had heard many theories spouted during the hellish year he had been headmaster; the Gryffindors, especially Longbottom and the girl's classmates had been particularly subdued right from the beginning of the year. Of course, all of the students had been subdued, including a substantial proportion of Slytherins .

He had not had a lot of time to consider what had happened to the girl, though he had known she had not been captured by any of his fellow Death Eaters. He had been deeply uneasy when he had first heard of the disappearance because he knew she had been attached to Draco Malfoy for a time and he also knew that Malfoy had not seemed overly perturbed about the girl's fate. This attachment had not been common knowledge though; he would not have known about it if he had not heard Malfoy boasting to Crabbe and Goyle that he had 'landed' the delectable little redheaded blood traitor.

Severus looked at Harry. "I did know," he said carefully. "Has there been some word of her fate?"

Harry sighed hugely and sprang to his feet to recommence his pacing. Severus' eyes widened when Harry said, "I found her."

"You _found_ her? What, she's not..."

"She ran away. She left the Wizarding World and was living as a Muggle. She hasn't even got a wand anymore."

Severus was stunned. Why would a member of such a prominent pure-blood family up and leave the Wizarding World to live as a Muggle? The girl had been intelligent. She could not have possibly thought she would be safe from the Dark Lord because she had decided to leave her magical heritage behind to live as a Muggle. She would have known that no Muggle would be safe under the Dark Lord's regime. True, when she had first gone missing, the Dark Lord had not yet overthrown the Ministry, but everyone had known it would only be a matter of time. And at that time Muggles were already being slaughtered indiscriminately.

Ginny Weasley had never struck Severus as being a coward. She had always been as foolishly gung-ho as her whole family.

After a few shocked seconds, Severus spoke. "Did she tell you why she ran away?"

Harry looked even more torn, and Severus thought he would think better of his decision to confide in him. But when it seemed that nothing further would transpire, Harry suddenly began talking again.

The words came rapidly but in an undertone and Severus had to concentrate hard to catch the whole of the tale. Finally, with a look of supplication, Harry said in a pained voice, "What in the hell can I do? I've totally bollixed everything! She can't keep living like this, being afraid to venture out anywhere. I should have set her up in her own home and left her in the Muggle world. I could support her so there would be no need for her to worry about money or having to go to work."

When Harry had finished speaking and fixed those green eyes on Severus, the older man didn't quite know how to respond; it was obvious that Harry wanted him to come up with a easy solution. Severus didn't have any wise words to offer him, not really.

Ginevra Weasley had a child! And she had felt that her only recourse had been to separate herself from her family because she was sure they would have kicked her to the curb anyway.

_Molly Weasley! _Severus could scarcely believe that the woman he had always thought of (more often than not contemptuously) as the quintessential Earth Mother would be so hard on her daughter that the girl would feel her only recourse was to leave everything she had ever known behind because she had gotten herself pregnant out of wedlock.

Severus knew that the Wizarding World was not as free and easy from a moralistic point of view as the Muggle world, but still, it was nearly the end of the twentieth century and Ginevra Weasley was certainly not the first witch to find herself with a child but without a husband.

"Severus?"

Severus blinked and focused on the worried young man standing in front of him. Severus was reminded forcefully of the look that had always graced Harry's face when he had turned up for his Occlumency lessons in his fifth year. But then he blinked again when he realised that Harry's expression wasn't quite what it had been back then; fear was not shadowing the boy's eyes now, just worry.

"Have you any suggestions?" asked Harry his voice a little more desperate than it had been when he was telling his story.

Severus didn't, but he was not looking forward to telling Harry that. To put off the moment, Severus rose and crossed to the bookcase where one of the shelves housed his modest selection of alcoholic beverages. He ignored the half dozen bottles of Butterbeer and the Oak Matured Mead and reached for the Firewhisky.

Harry looked vaguely at the glass Severus handed him; he really was a mess, Severus thought. He tilted Harry's elbow with a finger to guide the glass to his lips. "Perhaps a shot of Firewhisky will give your synapses a jolt." He took a large sip from his own glass. "Mine too," he mumbled.

"Can't hurt," said Harry. He held his glass up in a one way toast. "Cheers."

Fifteen minutes later, Severus had to take Harry's wrist between his long fingers to prevent the boy from pouring a third measure of the potent liquor. "If you keep this up, you'll drown your synapses, Harry. _That _will do neither you, nor Ginevra any good at all."

"No, but it'll help me forget what a first rate plonker I am."

Severus took Harry's glass and put it back on the shelf. "You don't need a hangover on top of the headache you already have." He pushed Harry into a chair and stood over him.

"I haven't got a tidy solution for you, Harry. But while you are berating yourself for creating the current situation, just remember that Miss Weasley agreed to the arrangement. If you had set her up by herself, she would still have the problem of her daughter's frequent accidental magic; she would still have virtually been confined to her home because of it."

Harry closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. "There is no solution," he said.

"All I can tell you is that you and Ginevra need to sit down and talk this through. She is in an untenable position, but so are you. She has isolated herself away from her family for three years and now _you_ are isolating yourself away from the closest thing to family you have."

Harry sighed deeply and put his head back against the chair back. "She's too bloody scared she'll be rejected if she exposes herself to them."

"Can you see that happening, Harry?" asked Severus. "The Weasleys are the tightest family I have ever known."

"I can't see them rejecting her, of course I can't. They've never recovered from the fact that she disappeared. But Ginny is..." Harry didn't need to say it again. He pushed his fingers under his glasses and rubbed his eyes vigorously.

Severus watched him for a silent minute. Then he clapped Harry on his shoulder; the boy was just as slender as he ever had been but he had grown several inches in height since his sixth year. He was not, however, a tall man. Just a boy really. A boy who had lived through hell in his short lifetime and who deserved a peaceful life. Ginny Weasley was preventing that from happening.

"You need to go home, Harry. I cannot help you other than to tell you that you and the girl need to talk long and hard. If I remember Ginevra Weasley correctly, the girl is very far from stupid. Nor was she a coward. She might be too scared to fix the mess she has made of her own life, but I would be willing to bet that she will not be comfortable seeing you ruining your relationship with the people you consider family."

As he spoke, Severus walked to the door and opened it. Harry looked a little sick, but he stood and moved to the coat stand. He put on his coat and scarf in silence then crossed to the door. He looked up at the man who had once been an enemy. "Thanks for the drinks. And thanks for lending an ear."

"You're welcome, though I'm not sure how helpful either has been."

Harry shrugged. "As you said earlier, 'a problem shared is a problem halved'. He exited the room and began striding along the dungeon corridor, his long coat flapping in his wake.

"Potter." Harry turned but he kept walking backwards. "Good luck." With a wave to acknowledge the sentiment, Harry turned and strode on.

Severus shut the door and leaned against it. He would dearly like to know what Ginny Weasley's daughter looked like.

...

Ginny was worried. The day had crept by at a snail's pace after Harry had left but it was now dark. She knew he had gone to see Snape, but she had thought he would only be gone for a couple of hours; that had been the usual arrangement since she had moved in.

Ginny had fed Bonnie her dinner and bathed and dressed her in her pyjamas. Now they were in her bedroom and Ginny was reading to her daughter. Bonnie refused to get into her own bed until Harry got home; Ginny really hoped that would be soon. Apart from the fact that Ginny knew that Bonnie was unlikely to settle without Harry tucking her in, _she_ desperately wanted him to walk through the door. It was the longest time he had been away from the house since she and Bonnie had taken up residence.

_Why?_

Was Harry regretting their arrangement? Was he having second thoughts? Just as she was. Well, not second thoughts per se, Harry had been wonderful to her and Bonnie; overall, she had been happy and relatively content in this really beautiful home. When Harry had told her he lived in Grimmauld Place, she had been secretly horrified. She could never have imagined that such a miraculous transformation could have been wrought upon the mouldering pile of Slytherin memorabilia she had once lived in for the summer holidays all those years ago.

Powerful magic must have come into play because Ginny was sure that nothing but demolition would have transformed the dark, dank rooms, hallways and stairwells.

Ginny smiled to herself. Of course powerful magic had been used; Harry was a powerful wizard.

Half an hour later, Ginny looked down at her sleeping daughter and smiled. She had been wrong, Bonnie had fought hard but Hypnos had won the battle. Once asleep, Bonnie always became practically comatose so it was easy for Ginny to transfer her to her own bed without waking her.

Deciding that a mug of hot chocolate would help her settle for the night, Ginny was making her way down the stairs when the front door opened and the lights lining the wall sprang to life.

...

Harry quietly pushed the front door shut. He yawned as he reached to undo the top button on his overcoat, and when he idly glanced up, his hand stilled; Ginny was standing on the stairs, looking down at him. They gazed at each other for a tense moment, then Harry continued to doff his coat and Ginny continued on her way down the stairs. Silently, she waited for Harry at the head of the basement-kitchen stairs. Harry walked towards her.

"I was beginning to wonder where you had got to," said Ginny quietly. She hoped her voice was matter-of-fact rather than worried.

"Sorry," said Harry, but he didn't elaborate about where he had been for so long. He gestured down the stairs. "Were you heading down?"

Ginny nodded and turned away; she felt a little flustered as Harry had been standing very close to her and her back tingled as he followed close behind her down the stairs.

_Get hold of yourself you hopeless woman!_

Ginny crossed the room and reached up for a small copper-based saucepan hanging from a rack above the table. "I'm having a hot chocolate. Would you like one?" She set the saucepan on the table and turned to get the milk. She almost ran into Harry who was standing with the milk in his hand. Her hand shook slightly as she took the carton from him.

"I'd love one," he said, and while Ginny prepared the drinks, Harry pulled out a chair and sat down. He was beyond tired, but he and Ginny had to talk, and the sooner they did, the sooner he would be able to go to bed and relax.

When Ginny passed Harry a mug, she sat down opposite him, reassured by the wide expanse of timber between them, though she wished she had the nerve to sit right next to him. Harry sipped his drink, trying to dredge up the courage to speak. The only noise was the quiet rustling of feathers from the two owls and the soft clunks of the mugs being placed back on the table between sips of the hot, sweet, milky chocolate.

Both Harry and Ginny were looking into their mugs when they spoke at the same time.

"I want to tell you what happened," said Ginny.

"I think we should get married," said Harry.

**TBC...**

**A/N: **Hypnos is the God of Sleep, according to Greek mythology. He is the brother of Morpheus, the God of Dreams.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello all. I know many thought I had abandoned this story, but as you can see, that is not the case. It has been a long time, but good (hopefully) things come to those who wait.**

**To all who have been waiting for this update, thank you very**** much for your patience**_. _**I can only hope you enjoy this**** and I hope you feel the wait has been worth it.**

**I am sorry to tell you though, that you may want to pull your hair out when you get to the end. Another cliffie awaits you, but I promise that there will be nothing like the wait you had to endure for this.**

**wrappedinharry  
**

_**From ch. 9:**  
_

_When Ginny passed Harry a mug, she sat down opposite him, reassured by the wide expanse of timber between them, though she wished she had the nerve to sit right next to him. Harry sipped his drink, trying to dredge up the courage to speak. The only noise was the quiet rustling of feathers from the two owls and the soft clunks of the mugs being placed back on the table between sips of the hot, sweet, milky chocolate._

_Both Harry and Ginny were looking into their mugs when they spoke at the same time._

"_I want to tell you what happened," said Ginny._

"_I think we should get married," said Harry. _

Finding Ginny 10

Ginny's jaw dropped and she stared at Harry in shock. Anything she might have wanted to get off her chest dried up on her tongue.

Harry heard Ginny speak but he blocked her words out; he had an agenda here, and if he let her distract him, he would never be able to continue, so nervous was he.

Harry had spent the last eight hours thinking about what he wanted to do. When thoughts of marriage floated to the front of his mind, he wasn't entirely shocked. If the truth were told the idea had been hovering for a while; ever since Ginny had contacted him and told him she needed his help—ever since she had agreed to move into Grimmauld Place.

Deep down he thought that if he made Ginny his wife, then it would make it easier for her to reconnect with her family. He didn't want to delve too deeply into why he thought this because he was afraid that it made him seem really conceited. He was embarrassed to admit that because Arthur and Molly looked on him as a son, then Molly (if indeed she was as strict and unyielding with her only daughter as said daughter seemed to think she was) would more easily accept Ginny back into the fold if she was his wife rather than just the runaway daughter. If they saw that he loved Ginny's daughter as if she was his own, then they would not be able to reject her, they would happily accept Bonnie as their granddaughter.

Harry couldn't imagine Molly Weasley rejecting any child. But then again, he could never have imagined her being so strict and moralistic that her daughter had felt it necessary to cut herself off from her family because she was afraid she would be booted out anyway. He certainly could not imagine Arthur allowing his wife to take any such action.

The Weasleys _he _knew could never reject their daughter and granddaughter, Harry was more than convinced of that, but all that really mattered was that Ginny believed it. If he was beside her as more than a friend, then perhaps she would feel more secure and more willing to reconcile with her family.

Harry knew that his theory was tenuous at best. But it was easy to look past all these unknowns because there was another, bigger reason why he wanted to marry Ginny. His theory about deep-seated familial love and forgiveness paled into insignificance now that he had explored his true feelings and brought them into the sunlight.

He loved her. He loved Ginny Weasley. He even loved Virginia Wesley.

He had fallen in love with Ginny almost from the first moment he had spotted her all those weeks ago, sitting in a Muggle coffee-shop. It had hit him square between the eyes and her less than welcoming behaviour had done nothing to turn him off; it had, much to his surprise, fuelled his determination to get to know her again and to try to get her to reconcile with her family.

Even when she had finally done the almost impossible and made Harry Potter admit defeat—when he had finally left because her unhappiness and fear had made staying impossible, his feelings had not changed; frustration and depression had just been added to the maelstrom of emotions whirling around his brain. That was why it had been so hard to stay away and so easy to rush back to her side at the first opportunity.

When she had contacted him again his heart had leapt about inside his chest like a demented rabbit. He had been deliberately cold and aloof when he was finally in her company again, because he had been as nervous and vulnerable as she had. He didn't think he could have stood there and let her shoot him down in flames again, though the fact that she had contacted him had made that scenario unlikely.

Still, he had been wary. When she had finally broken down, he had been unable to maintain the cold facade and the appearance of Bonnie in their midst had seen any remaining hesitancy crumble to dust.

Ginny had been under his roof now for over two weeks and already the situation had deteriorated. Harry had convinced himself that he could keep Ginny and Bonnie's existence in the house a secret for as long as Ginny felt it necessary, and still be able to maintain a close connection with Ron and Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys.

No... the painful honesty he was now so determined to maintain (at least in his mind) made him amend this thought—he had known almost from the first day of Ginny and Bonnie's residency that this arrangement couldn't be sustained over an extended period of time, not if he wanted to maintain his close ties with Ron and Hermione and the rest of his surrogate family. It was quite obvious that he had been deluding himself in those early days. But just because the blinkers had been lifted from his eyes now, did not mean he knew a clear way forward.

Marriage seemed to be the easiest route as far as all of Ginny's problems went and it was certainly the most attractive alternative as far as his emotions were concerned. Harry was fairly sure that Ginny didn't find him too repulsive a specimen. But even if she could never look at him in a romantic light, he could live with that. He would never make any demands of her.

_Yes, you just keep on deluding yourself, Potter._

There was no way he would _ever_ make demands of her, no matter what!

Now, as Harry watched the shock of his bald statement leech all the colour from Ginny's face, he suddenly felt embarrassed and, at the same time, incredibly vulnerable. She could shoot him down in flames; if she was in the mood, Ginny's tongue could produce a veritable storm of Fiendfyre. He could end up nothing but ashes if she so wished to unleash that power.

_Would_ she unleash that power? If she did, she would have to recover from her initial shock first; at the moment, she looked incapable of doing anything other than breathing. But as Harry watched, a pink wash began to suffuse Ginny's cheeks. Perhaps speech—and fury?—would return far more quickly than he would have thought possible.

But when Ginny remained speechless, Harry began to squirm. Should that simple statement have inspired_ such_ a degree of speechlessness?

_Best take advantage of the silence. _

Harry decided to expound on his statement before she found her tongue again. He burst into impassioned speech.

"It makes perfect sense, Gin." When there was no interjection, and the pink wash had begun to look like luscious crimson satin, he hurried on, trying desperately to concentrate on what he wanted to say instead of how delicious the woman sitting opposite him looked.

"If you were my wife, you would have my protection; there would be no need for you to fear the Wizarding World any more. And your family is, for all intents and purposes, _my_ family. It'll be tough and I know you will be scared, but we would meet them together."

"Just like that?" Ginny's voice had returned but it was very quiet, remarkably, very controlled. She was no longer looking at Harry but staring at her hands where they were clasped around her mug of chocolate. Harry took heart; she hadn't begun to rant at him.

"Well, perhaps we wouldn't just walk into the Burrow for Sunday lunch with no forewarning..."

Ginny shook her head slowly, thoughtfully. "No, perhaps that wouldn't be the best approach."

Harry pushed his half empty cup to the side and leaned forward, his forearms braced on the table, his buttocks hovering an inch above his seat and his expression intense. He shook his head. "No, of course it wouldn't. We'd still take it slowly. As slowly as you want. We could sound out Ron and Hermione first."

There was a long pause before Ginny spoke again. "Sound them out about the marriage, or about the best way to approach the rest of the family?" Her voice was still quiet, emotionless. She was still looking at her hands where they cradled her mug; she wouldn't look at Harry. He lowered himself back onto his chair and leaned back; he gripped the edge of the table so hard, his knuckles turned white.

Harry was not precisely sure what she wanted to hear. Her inflectionless tone convinced him that he had to tread very carefully. His voice was a question when he said, "Both, I suppose?"

Ginny took a deep breath—she had still not looked at him since that initial shocked stare. Now she nodded again—this time the movement was short and sharp. Then she rose and took her cup to the sink. Harry held his breath and watched as she poured the remainder of her drink down the drain. After rinsing and putting the cup carefully in the drainer, she stood with her back to him staring at the window where her reflection and the bright kitchen were thrown back by the dark glass. But Harry was pretty sure she was blind to the reflection.

Just when he thought he would have to speak again or go mad, Ginny turned. She leaned back against the cabinet, her hands gripping the edge. Harry held his breath as she looked at him. He couldn't tell anything from her face; like her voice it was expressionless.

"Do you really think getting married is going to make everything easier?" she asked in that same inflectionless voice.

"Yes!" said Harry adamantly and immediately.

Ginny's eyes roamed over his face for several seconds, then she nodded thoughtfully. Finally her gaze moved away and she looked beyond him, towards the door leading to the stairway. After a moment of contemplation, she pushed her slight body away from the bench and walked towards the stairs. She didn't leave the room though, just stood looking upwards.

"Gin?"

"What if it doesn't?" she asked softly.

"What?"

"What if it doesn't make things easier? What if Ron can't, or doesn't want to help smooth the way?" She was looking directly at him again. Harry stood. He didn't quite know what to do with himself; he couldn't stay seated in the face of her pessimism.

But perhaps this wasn't just pessimism: perhaps this was the beginning of a refusal to consider his proposal. Harry lowered his butt onto the table; his knuckles whitened again where they grasped the edge.

"Ginny, you can't really believe Ron wouldn't be ecstatic to see you alive and well—that he wouldn't want you back with the family, no matter the reasons for your disappearance?"

Ginny bit her lip; she took a step towards Harry, who gathered his legs under him again; he felt like a Jack-in-the box! He continued to grip the table edge behind him for support.

"Okay, Harry, forget Ron for the moment." She raised her hands in frustration but then she lowered them and speared her fingers through her hair. "With or without Ron, what will you do if the family does not accept me back into the fold, if they won't accept Bonnie?"

Harry reached out to her but she stepped back a pace. "Ginny..."

"Answer me, Harry. What will you do? As my husband, you would be obliged to support me—to stand by me. But will you be able to walk away from the rest of the family? Even Ron and Hermione?"

Harry just stared at her.

"Do you still want to marry me, even with that outcome a distinct possibility?"

"I want to marry you Ginny, no matter what. But I don't believe that will happen."

Ginny studied him, her chocolate eyes roving over his face as if she was trying to find the source of his extreme optimism. Then she shook her head and Harry's heart skipped a beat. But it didn't seem as if this was a refusal either because she asked another question.

"Well, all that aside—because it doesn't seem as if we're on the same page..." Ginny raised her face to the ceiling as if looking for divine intervention. "Answer me this, then. What will happen if one day you meet someone and fall in love? Divorce isn't easy in the Wizarding World."

Harry sighed. This was an easy one. "That isn't going to happen, Gin" _I'm already in love with a beautiful red-haired witch._

"How can you know that?"

"It won't happen because when I make a commitment, I'm there for the long haul."

Ginny eyes roved over Harry's earnest face and then her lips quirked upwards in a tiny smile. "Yes, I vaguely remember your determination of old."

Harry grinned and the wattage of Ginny's own smile increased for a second. Then it disappeared and she sighed. "Okay, Harry, I accept your offer. I will marry you." she turned towards the stairs again. "I just hope that you aren't disappointed with your choices."

~HPGW~

Harry scrubbed a hand through his still very damp hair and pulled at the collar of the old tee-shirt where it clung uncomfortably to his neck; he had a bad habit of not towelling his hair dry enough. Molly had told him off on more than one occasion in the past.

Harry had wanted to make an effort with his appearance today, but had, at the last minute decided that that might make Ginny even more nervous than she already was; dressing up would assign the day and the coming events even more significance than they already had.

The smell of roasting pork permeating upwards from the kitchen should have tweaked Harry's appetite as he had foregone breakfast, but the knots his stomach and intestines were tied in induced a slight feeling of nausea rather than hunger.

He had decided on a pork lunch because he knew it was Ron's favourite, and when Ginny and Bonnie had entered the kitchen earlier as he was salting the skin, Ginny had stared at the joint for a long moment before producing a thin smile.

She had made herself a cup of tea and drunk it while preparing Bonnie's breakfast. She herself had also eschewed food and after Bonnie had greeted Harry in her usual ebullient fashion and begun to eat her cereal, Ginny had said in a quiet, knowing voice, "Are you relying on roast pork to soothe the savage beast?"

Harry had dumped the meat in a large roaster and poured olive oil over it before shoving it into the hot oven. When he had straightened and washed his hands at the sink, he looked sideways at Ginny where she was leaning against the counter with her ankles crossed and her cup of tea held in both hands.

"Can't hurt," he had said, shrugging, implying that providing Ron with some of his favourite food might well help get them through the meeting to come.

Now Ginny and Bonnie were back in their rooms; Harry had thought—and Ginny had not taken much persuading—that it might be best for Ron and Hermione to settle in for a short while before she appeared amongst them and upset the apple-cart, well and truly—her words.

Harry had descended two steps to the kitchen when a fist banging against the front door reverberated along the hall. As Harry reversed direction and hurried along the hall to admit his best friends, he thought with a grimace that the unsubtle hammering indicated that Ron was still unhappy about being ostracised from Grimmauld Place.

Harry used his wand to disable the locking charms and lower the protective enchantments around the entrance. Hermione stood on the top step and she flung her arms around Harry as soon as she saw him. Over her shoulder, Harry saw Ron standing with his hands thrust into his parka pockets, his eyes doggedly fixed on his trainers.

"Ignore him," Hermione whispered as she pulled back; she watched Harry watch Ron. "He's been in a snit ever since he was here last Saturday."

A muffled growl was heard and then Ron pushed past his wife and friend. "Stop talking about me as if I'm the bloody doormat," he sniped over his shoulder as he strode along the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "As you can see, he's in fine fettle."

Harry avoided Hermione's eyes as he re-erected the wards. "He's got reason," he said softly.

"And I have no doubt that you had your reasons for stopping access into your home by the family, Harry," returned Hermione in her usual no-nonsense tone. She hung her coat and scarf on a hook and taking Harry's arm, they walked together down to the kitchen. "It is, after all, _your_ house." This last was said at a volume that was sure to reach Ron in the kitchen.

Ron's coat had been thrown on the table in an untidy heap; he was rummaging in the refrigerator. Hermione tutted and took the coat and hung it on the back of a chair as Harry went to the oven to tend the meat. Hermione got herself a mug and tapped the kettle with her wand to set it to boil. As Ron plonked two cans of Muggle beer on the table and threw himself into a chair, popping the tab on his own can, Harry felt, with a rush of affection, like they had never been gone.

Hermione crunched on a piece of carrot she purloined from the bowl of cut vegetables as she made her tea. She kept up a stream of inane chatter in an attempt to cover the slightly tense silence. Harry let her prattle on and Ron made no attempt to insert any comments of his own. When he finished at the oven and sat himself down opposite Ron, Hermione hoisted herself onto the bench in much the same way she had done in the past when they were in the kitchen together preparing a meal.

After taking a sip of her tea, she wrapped her hands around the cup and levelled her most penetrating gaze upon Harry. "So Harry, are we going to meet your house guest today?"

Harry saw Ron glance up from his determined study of the table top but when Harry caught his eye, Ron immediately went back to his wood gazing.

Harry sighed and took a swig from his can, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah... yeah, you are." He looked at Ron again but Ron was still finding it difficult to look Harry in the eye. Harry kept on addressing his mate, however.

"I'm sorry to have been so secretive the other day, mate," he said. "But Gi—err, my guest is shy and I had to talk her around to meeting you."

"Shy!" exclaimed Ron through gritted teeth. "That's not shy, Harry, that's bloody paranoid." Hermione, who was directly behind Ron, raised her foot and poked him in the side of his ribs. Ron ignored her silent admonishment and when Harry opened his mouth to reply, Ron overrode him.

"If she's a good enough _friend..._" Here, Ron sketched quotation marks in the air. "...that she's staying with you, then she must know you well enough to know you wouldn't let any Tom, Dick or H..."

Harry fought to control a smirk but Hermione made no effort to hide her snort of amusement. Ron wasn't to be deterred. "Yeah, okay, not the cleverest analogy in the world, but you bloody-well know what I mean."

"_Analogy_?" said Harry, his smirk now in full bloom. "Ron, mate, you really are channelling your wife."

"And that's a bad thing?" said Hermione with mock severity.

"Nothing against you, Hermione, but one of you is sufficient."

"Yes, yes, I know—and any more would be a total abundance to which you are quite unaccustomed."

"Exactly!" Harry's smirk remained in place as he looked at Ron and he was gratified to see him finally grin. "It's like a pall," huffed Ron. "I'm totally immersed in this intellectual soup."

"Oi!" Hermione poked Ron again with the toe of her soft leather boot. "Watch it, you. You could do a lot worse than channelling me."

Ron grabbed Hermione's foot where it still jabbed at him and Harry laughed aloud, happy that the old banter still flowed so easily between them.

Ron ran his hand inside the leg of Hermione's jeans, stroking the smooth skin of her calf absently. He continued his ministrations but the grin slowly slipped from his face as he continued to stare at Harry on the other side of the table.

"So, where is she, Harry?" he asked, all humour gone. "_Who_ is she?"

Harry rubbed his fingertips over his suddenly dry lips. _Merlin, what now, Ginny?_

While he tried to cudgel his brain to think how to tell them about Ginny—because despite lying awake most of the night, he still had not worked that out—he saw Ron's eyes widen in shock when his gaze fixed on something behind Harry's back.

Every vestige of colour drained from the redhead's face—even his freckles blanched—and when Ron staggered upwards from his chair, Harry was sure his legs would give way.

Spinning about in his own chair, Harry saw Ginny standing just beyond the doorway on the small landing at the base of the stairs. Though her face was in shadow, Harry could see she too was very pale. He jumped to his feet, unsure and a little afraid of what would transpire in the next few minutes. He wished Ginny had stuck to their original plan; she was supposed to wait until Harry had explained things to Ron and Hermione before she made an appearance – but in actuality, Harry realised she could have been waiting for ever.

Harry heard Hermione jump down from the bench. Despite her own shock, Harry knew she would immediately be at Ron's side to offer whatever support she could. Harry quickly turned back to look at Ron, who was still staring as if at an apparition. Hermione was pressed against his arm, holding it tightly, just in case. Harry wasn't sure if she thought he might pass out, or bolt from the room, or even launch himself at his sister—his sister who, for all intents and purposes had apparently just returned from the dead.

His head snapped back when Ginny said in a very small voice, "Hello, Ron."

~HPGW~

Ron opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again without uttering a sound. Harry saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed convulsively. Ginny glanced quickly at Harry—he thought he detected a slight note of apology in her brown eyes—and then stepped fully into the brightly lit kitchen.

She and Ron stared at each other, totally oblivious to the other two in the room

"Ginny," Ron finally managed to croak. "Y—you're _alive_?"

Ginny could only nod. Ron took one hesitant step forward, but his way was impeded by the table; he bumped his thigh hard against the corner. Ignoring the pain the knock must have caused, he unsteadily skirted the obstacle and took another step. Ginny matched him and within a second they met in the middle of the floor, their arms wrapping around each other in a hug that contained more than three years' worth of emotion.

They were both sobbing hard - Ginny's face was mashed into Ron's shoulder and Ron had her enfolded so tightly in his embrace, Harry was surprised she could breathe, let alone cry.

Hermione had circled the table and Harry felt her hand creep into his; when he glanced at her, he could see the evidence of tears on her face as well. But when she turned her face to him, Harry could see that the moving sight of her husband embracing his long-lost sister was not enough to stop her mind from dwelling on the 'whys' and the 'wherefores' of Ginny's disappearance and her miraculous reappearance. It was obvious that even if Ron was too caught up in the moment to dwell on the mysteries, Hermione wasn't.

Harry privately thought it was a shame that Hermione's heart couldn't overrule her head for once. Still, she was nothing if not consistent. Harry mouthed, 'later', then he pulled Hermione along with him as he attempted to sidle past the brother and sister. As the intertwined pair was practically standing in the doorway, Harry and Hermione's exit did not go unnoticed and with a loud sniff, Ron finally lifted his wet face from where it was buried in Ginny's hair.

"No," he croaked when he realised his wife and best friend were going to leave the room. "Don't go."

Harry held up his hand. "Ron, mate, we'll give the two of you some time together."

Ginny had raised her tearstained, blotchy face from where it had been buried in Ron's ancient red windcheater which now sported a huge wet patch. She looked at Harry in panic. "No, Harry, please stay."

When Ron looked down at Ginny again, she couldn't meet his eyes, and suddenly embarrassed she stepped back and wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. Ron frowned at her suddenly defensive posture and slowly, Harry saw the realisation dawn, that along with his sister's sudden and dramatic reappearance in his life, there were also many questions that needed answers.

Ron's swollen, wet eyes flicked from Ginny to Harry and back again. He swiped his sleeve across his face. His colour was coming back with a vengeance and the pallor had been replaced with a pink wash that Harry knew would darken to the colour of a rich claret. The four of them stood frozen for several seconds and Harry knew when the power of speech returned to Ron; it was when his ears matched the colour of his forehead.

But when Ron would have launched into indignant, albeit confused speech, Hermione forestalled him by pulling herself free of Harry's grip; stepping past Ron, and ignoring the touch-me-not posture of her sister-in-law, she pulled Ginny into a hug that was nearly as fierce as her husband's had been. Harry remembered that Hermione and Ginny had been best friends at Hogwarts.

For a moment Ginny remained stiff in Hermione's embrace, then she relaxed and returned her new sister-in-law's hug. Harry heard her gulp as she tried, once again, to hold back the persistent waterworks.

"Blow your nose properly, Ron," said Hermione in a thick, tremulous voice when she pulled back a little, realising that Ginny needed space; she had seen Ron out of the corner of her eye, swipe at his face again with his sleeve. Releasing Ginny from her embrace, she instead grasped the younger girl's upper arms and lowered her head slightly to look Ginny in the eye. "It is so good to see you again," she whispered. "We've missed you so much."

Ginny produced a tight little smile; a barely perceptible uplifting of the corners of her mouth. "I've missed you all, too. So much."

"If you missed us so m..._oomph_" Hermione elbowed Ron in the stomach, at the same time as she overrode his words with her own, louder utterance.

"You've been missing so long, Ginny. You must know we have a thousand questions... a million."

Ginny nodded and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I know." She slowly extricated herself from Hermione's loosened hold. Suddenly overcome with embarrassment, she lowered her gaze. She left the three of them standing where they were; they watched nervously as she crossed the kitchen. She grabbed a box of tissues from the top of the fridge and after pulling several out, placed the box on the table. While she blew her nose and swiped at her sore eyes and cheeks, Hermione moved to switch the kettle back on. She was making every effort to defuse the tension she could feel radiating off Ron and Ginny in toxic waves.

When Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ron in a silent message, he scowled but reigned in his desire to berate and instead moved to the table and sat himself down again. His eyes remained fixed on Ginny the whole time.

Harry thought it wise to postpone the meal as he was sure everyone's appetites had disappeared...well, he was sure Ron's appetite had disappeared. His—and he was sure, Ginny's—had been nonexistent since they had woken that morning. He turned off the oven and put a stasis charm on the roast before he sat in a chair next to Ginny, pulling it slightly closer to hers. Ron watched this manoeuvre with narrowed eyes but he refrained from speaking; instead he watched unblinkingly as Ginny began to pick apart her scrunched up tissues.

While they waited for the tea to steep, Hermione put mugs, spoons, sugar and milk on the table and when she finally slipped into the seat next to Ron, Harry felt sick with anxiety. He wondered fleetingly what Ginny had done with Bonnie. It felt like hours, but it had only been ten minutes since Ginny had entered the kitchen. He wondered if he should excuse himself and go and check on the little girl. He knew Ginny would have left her daughter safe and happy, probably doing a puzzle or playing with her dolls. But Bonnie wouldn't remain content by herself for long and as Ginny was slightly preoccupied and under great mental stress, she might not realise just how much time had passed.

Eventually they all had mugs of tea to occupy their hands and for a few minutes, they all sipped the soothing beverages. Finally, when the silence and the tension had become oppressive, Ron put his mug down with a louder than necessary bang. Ginny looked up and seeing her brother was quite over the sentimentality of a few minutes ago, she lowered her own cup with a shaking hand and prepared for the inquisition. Ron got straight down to business.

"Where have you been for the last three and a half years?" he ground out. Ginny flinched a little at the aggression in her brother's voice. It was painfully obvious that joy had morphed into anger. She had expected as much, but it didn't make explanations any easier, nor did it prevent her mourning the relatively small amount of time taken up by the former.

"And how the hell did you end up here with Harry?"

~GWHP~

Ginny raised admonishing eyes to her brother's irate face. He was still the same old Ron: the same infuriating, impatient and volatile person he had always been.

But she did acknowledge that his questions were valid, and perhaps his anger too. It would have been nice though, if his concern for what might have happened to her over the last three and a half years had overridden his feelings of anger and ill-usage. Ron was doing his usual and making her trauma all about him.

Ginny knew that her disappearance had affected her whole family – she knew they had all mourned her loss. She would always feel guilty for what she had put them through, especially her parents... well more her father than her mother because she was not sure her mother would remain upset once she learned the reason for Ginny's disappearance. But regardless, no parent should live to see one of their children die—or seemingly die. Ginny could not imagine how she would survive losing Bonnie.

Ginny opened her mouth to speak but Harry beat her to it.

"I found Ginny in a Muggle coffee shop ten days before Christmas."

Ron's mouth fell open but Harry was more focused on Ginny as she whipped her head around to glare at _him_. "You make it sound as if you were looking for a bargain and you saw me and bought me!"

Now Harry's mouth dropped open, but Ron was already in full tirade. "What the _hell_? _Ten days before Christmas_! You've known she was alive all that time and you didn't tell any of us? _Shit_, Harry..."

"Ron!" Hermione said in a cajoling voice, latching onto Ron's arm. Ginny thought that she sounded like a mother trying to placate a toddler. But Ron ignored her as he leaned his forearms on the table, thrusting his upper body and face closer to Harry.

"You _fucking_-well knew she was alive and you..."

"_Ron!_' Ginny raised her voice. The glare Harry had been subjected to a moment ago was now directed at Ron. She felt deflated and defeated already. This is what her interactions with Ron had been like during the last half of her last school year. He had been so angry with her for most of that time.

"Don't '_Ron_' me, Ginny!" Ron shouted. He shook off Hermione's hand and thrust his chair back so hard to gain his feet, it toppled over. He was so agitated, he could no longer stay sitting. Hermione bit her lip as she watched her husband wind himself into a full-blown Weasley tantrum.

His face was nearly puce as he strode up and down. His hand was shaking as he pointed between Harry and Ginny in dire accusation: he was almost incoherent with rage. "You... him...

Ginny thrust her own chair back and gained her feet as well. "Shut up!" she yelled. "Just_ shut up_!"

Ron stopped pacing and glared at his sister from the other end of the kitchen. "You have no right to tell me to shut up..."

"I have every right, you sanctimonious _shit_." Everyone's eyes widened; even before she had disappeared, Ginny, like Hermione had not been renowned for swearing, and since she had been found, Harry had not heard any bad language that he could remember passing her lips. Of course, Bonnie was usually around and he himself would never dream of swearing in front of the little girl.

Besides, Harry thought, such a violent epithet coming from the diminutive Ginny's mouth, with her livid face and her furiously taut body just looked wrong somehow.

Before Ron could recover from his shock, Ginny was moving around the table towards him. Ron seemed rooted to the spot by the vision of the virago advancing upon him, which was bad luck because when Ginny stood in front of him, she poked him violently in the chest with a rigid finger. Ron's face contorted comically and he rubbed at the abused spot.

"_You_ are a large part of the reason why I decided that I had to leave, Ron," she bit out, poking him again—and again, and again, to emphasise each point. "You and your holier-than-thou attitude, and your belief that you had the right to boss me around... to keep tabs on me, to report home if you decided that I wasn't living up to your idea of how your sister should be behaving!"

Ron's mouth was open again but no sound emerged; perhaps he was too involved with trying to rub the pain of each painful jab away. Hermione had now joined him and Harry too was on his feet, but he stayed where he was, warily watching the long held-off bitter attack.

These accusations of Ginny's concerning her interactions with her brother in her final year at Hogwarts were news to Harry. Much of his 6th year had passed by in a blur , unless it involved Dumbledore's private lessons and the revelations concerning Tom Riddle, or his obsession with trying to work out what Draco Malfoy was up to in the Room of Requirement. Ginny, he was now ashamed and appalled to admit to himself, had not even been a blip on his radar.

Harry watched as Hermione touched Ginny's forearm in a placatory gesture but Ginny jerked back. "Ginny, I'm sure Ron wouldn't have done..."

"_What_ precisely wouldn't he have done, Hermione?" spat a clearly not placated Ginny. "Been holier-than-thou? Or bossed me around? _Or_ reported home to our mother?

"Well, I _am_ sorry to disappoint you because it's obvious you love this git, but he is guilty of every one of those infractions. He was on my case almost from the moment we walked onto the Hogwarts' Express at the beginning of the year. I doubt it was even three days before he wrote home to Mum, objecting to my relationship with Dean."

"And a fat lot of notice you took of either of us," bellowed Ron, his considerable temper finding vent again.

"Why should I have?" Ginny screamed back. "I was fifteen years old, Ron! Old enough to have an innocent relationship with a boy—a boy moreover, whom you had bunked with for five years and who was supposedly a friend of yours."

Ron ignored the end of this tirade, focusing instead on the beginning. "_Innocent!_" he bellowed again."

"_Ron!_" Hermione tried to placate again but to no avail. Ron, too, shook off her hand and he took the half step forward that bought him flush with his much smaller sister's chest; he towered over her and looked totally intimidating. Too much so for Harry's peace of mind.

He took a step towards them; his plan was to pull Ginny away but when he reached for her arm, she jerked away from him as violently as she had from Hermione. With a distinct lack of fear for her intimidating brother, Ginny raised both arms and shoved Ron back. He only fell back a pace even though Ginny had pushed with all her might but he did not try and crowd in on her again.

He did brandish an accusatory finger at her again, however. "Do you forget I caught you snogging Thomas behind that tapestry on the second floor? That looked far from innocent to me!"

"We were snogging, Ron—_snogging_!" Ginny had crossed her arms and was looking far from cowed. "At least we kept our snogging private, unlike you and one Lavender Brown who didn't care if the whole of the school saw you in action."

Ron's ears were now so red and so hot looking, Harry was sure they would peel over the next couple of days. Before he could step forward again, Harry stepped in front of him. "That's enough, Ron. Back off."

"Who the hell are you to tell me to back off? This hasn't got anything to do with you."

"You think," said Harry calmly. "This is my house, and Ginny is my..."

"No, Harry," said Ginny, grasping his arm and pulling him back a little. "You don't have to tell him anything. My life now is none of his business, just as it wasn't all those years ago."

"You're my sister..."

"Yes, Ron, your sister, not your daughter or your subordinate. You had no right..."

"Mum gave me the right, Ginny."

"Yeah, I know she did. You took over the role of spy from Percy. And you know something, brother mine, you were more zealous than Percy ever was. Though how you found the time to spy on me in between your sessions with Lavender and your less than spectacular Quidditch performances."

The blood seemed to retreat from Ron's face with the speed of a spell leaving a wand. He snarled, "You..."

"Don't say it, Ron," said Harry in a deadly-soft voice.

"I don't need you to fight my battles, Harry," said Ginny while Ron said at the same moment, "How the bloody hell can you stick up for her, Harry?"

Hermione too, spoke almost simultaneously. "Ron, it's perfectly normal for a fifteen year old girl to have a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend maybe," agreed Ron, contrary to his earlier rant. But there was Michael Corner before Dean, wasn't there, Ginny?"

Ginny raised her chin. "While you just dived straight at Lavender. All she had to do was giggle at you and you thought you were that Muggle lover... that Cassa...whatever."

Blood was quickly suffusing Ron's face again and a pulse was leaping about in his left temple. "And what did bloody Malfoy have to do?" he yelled. "Just what the fuck inspired you to start panting after the biggest prick in the entire school?"

"**MUMMEEE!**"

Harry didn't have time to react to Ron's words before the piercing, hysterical scream came from the stairwell. Everyone froze, their faces turned towards the kitchen door. Harry and Ginny exchanged horrified looks and then they both hurried towards the stairs. Ginny beat Harry through the door and she rushed past the turn in the stairs, Harry close on her heels. He could hear the other two following close on his heels.

"Mummy, _Mummeee._.." Ginny was scooping a very tearful Bonnie up from where she was sitting on the top step when Harry caught up. The little girl clung to her mother who patted her daughter's back and jiggled her in a vain attempt to soothe her. Bonnie's body was shaking with the force of her sobs.

"Shh, baby... it's all right... Mummy's here," crooned Ginny but Bonnie was not to be pacified. Ginny jiggled harder and she looked at Harry hopelessly. Then her glance lighted on Ron and Hermione who were standing two and three steps down, staring at the scene in utter shock, both of their mouths hanging open. Ginny swallowed hard. She jiggled Bonnie harder still but if anything, her own trepidation was infecting her daughter and the wails rose in volume.

Harry took charge. With a no-nonsense movement, he wrested Bonnie from Ginny's arms. Bonnie screamed a high-pitched sound of terror, but Harry pushed her blonde head into his shoulder and whispered soothing nonsense into her ear.

Ginny, her arms now empty, stared at her brother who was watching Harry tend the little girl; his face was devoid of any emotion. Not so Hermione's; her eyes were focused on Ginny and Ginny saw a mixture of pity and dawning comprehension on the older girl's face.

Ginny folded her arms across her chest and tried to appear as if she was totally in control, when in fact, she was shaking so hard, she thought her legs might give way any second.

As usual, Harry had the magic touch. Bonnie's wails had petered out to sniffles and hiccoughs but the tension surrounding the adults was becoming palpable. Bonnie must have felt it too, for though she was calming down, she refused to lift her face from where it was buried in Harry's neck.

Ron watched his best friend soothe the tiny girl with an unreadable expression on his face, then his head swivelled towards Ginny. She braced herself for the tirade, for her brother's accusations and disdain.

But the fury of moments ago seemed to have drained out of Ron. He stared hard at his little sister, taking in her defensive posture and her extreme pallor with seeming detachment.

After several fraught seconds that seemed to stretch into an eternity, he took Hermione's arm and turned them back towards the kitchen. After taking two steps down, he said over his shoulder, "I think we'll be more comfortable in the kitchen."

Harry and Ginny watched the retreating backs, then looked at each other. Harry raised his eyebrows and then gestured for Ginny to precede him down the stairs. He tried to transfer Bonnie to the other side of his neck, but she clung like a leech, so he left her where she was.

When Harry entered the kitchen, Hermione was in full mother mode again and was preparing a new pot of tea whilst banishing the dregs from their cups and cleaning them with economical movements of her wand. Ron was staring out the back window at the play-set, that until now, had entirely escaped his memory.

Without turning, he said to the glass, "Is she Malfoy's?"

Harry wanted to thump Ron. In all the time he had been around Ginny since she had come back into his life, Harry had not had the nerve to ask who Bonnie's father was, though of course, he had speculated. He had never known anyone other than Malfoy and his parents to have the same moonlight-blonde hair that Bonnie had. He supposed he had not wanted to think about the little girl's paternity because that would have just led to other, even more awkward questions.

So Harry wasn't really surprised when Ginny said, "Yes." But he was just as shocked as Ron, who spun around to stare open-mouthed at his sister and Hermione, who spilt tea on the tabletop when Ginny added in a much quieter voice, "Well... I assume she is."

**TBC...**

**Once again I owe a huge thank you to Tabitha (ObsidianEmbrace, check out her stories here on fanfiction) for her invaluable help and her constant encouragement. Best Beta ever. Thanks Tab...Huggles.  
**

**I'd love to hear your comments.  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**A/N: It has been a very long time. I hate that there are so many people out there who have been waiting for me to update. Life and lack of inspiration got in the way, but I finally have something to offer. I can only hope previous readers will want to continue with the story after all this time. **

**I would especially like to thank those reviewers who have begged me to continue with the story; they have really leant me inspiration. The most recent of these, 'Guest', was the final straw that broke the camel's back and inspired me to get this chapter out. Thank you very much for your lovely review. And thank you in advance, to all those waiting for this update (if indeed there is an 'all'.)  
**

**I realise most people will need to go back and refresh their memories. Below is the end of Ch 10.**

**I would love to read any reviews from those kind enough to take the time. And I have 1,600 words of the next chapter written so I promise the next update will not be anywhere as long in the posting as this one.**

**wrappedinharry.**

**From the end of Ch10: **

Without turning, he said to the glass, "Is she Malfoy's?"

Harry wanted to thump Ron. In all the time he had been around Ginny since she had come back into his life, Harry had not had the nerve to ask who Bonnie's father was, though of course, he had speculated. He had never known anyone other than Malfoy and his parents to have the same moonlight-blonde hair that Bonnie had. He supposed he had not wanted to think about the little girl's paternity because that would have just led to other, even more awkward questions.

So Harry wasn't really surprised when Ginny said, "Yes." But he was just as shocked as Ron, who spun around to stare open-mouthed at his sister, and Hermione, who spilled tea on the tabletop when Ginny added in a much quieter voice, "Well... I assume she is."

**Now...**

Hermione recovered first; she crashed the teapot down on the table and had her wand in her hand and the mess banished before anyone else even realised she had spilled tea over the tabletop.

Ginny wrapped her arms more tightly around her middle and with a groan of despair she sat down abruptly on the bottom step. With her elbows on her knees, she lowered her head and grabbed twin hanks of hair at the roots and tightened her grip fiercely. Harry couldn't see the tears but he could see Ginny's shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

Harry wanted to go to her but he had his arms full of a still sniffling Bonnie. Hermione was the one who rushed to Ginny's side where she squeezed herself onto the step next to her and gathered the distressed figure into her arms. She refused to let go even though Ginny's body language gave off the clear message that she do so. Hermione held on tightly, rocking the slight figure in her arms and whispering soothing words until the stiffness began to leak out of Ginny. She finally melted against Hermione and buried her face against her shoulder, her tears quickly soaking through Hermione's thick Fair Isle jumper.

Even Ron seemed not to be immune to the misery pervading the basement kitchen. Harry had expected him to launch into a diatribe of disgust and judgement so he was thankful that Ron's face had paled to the colour of putty instead of his anger igniting again and turning his face the approximate colour of Elf-made wine. Harry would have hated to punch his best friend out.

Feeling worse than useless, Harry lowered himself onto a chair, rubbing Bonnie's back while dividing his attention between the two women on the step and his volatile friend. Bonnie's sniffles had finally petered out and she had moved her head slightly to free her mouth so that it could accommodate her thumb; Harry was too preoccupied to think about removing it.

He watched as Ron thrust his hands deep into his pockets and with his shoulders somewhere up around his ears, turn away to stare unseeingly out the window again. Harry could tell when his shoulders hunched even higher, that he was trying to avoid looking at the swing set.

Harry's attention was diverted back to the women when Hermione spoke. "Come on Ginny, I think we could do with a little girl time." Not waiting for Ginny to demur, Hermione rose, pulling the slighter girl up with little effort, although ascent of the stairs proved difficult as Ginny was reluctant to lift her head from Hermione's shoulder. Hermione shot Harry a 'be patient' look before she and her charge rounded the bend in the stairs.

When Harry returned his attention to Ron, he found him leaning against the bench looking after his wife and sister. When he felt Harry's gaze on him, he crossed to the table and flung himself down onto a chair. They stared at each other for what felt like hours to Harry. Finally Ron's eyes fixed on Bonnie's fair head where it was still nestled against Harry's shoulder.

Ron's eyes were not hostile as Harry might have expected, rather, they showed very little emotion at all. Ron gestured towards Bonnie with a movement of his head. "You look like a natural," he said and though Harry didn't think the words were a compliment, he answered truthfully.

"I feel like a natural." He kissed the top of Bonnie's head. "But she makes it easy. She's a gorgeous kid."

Ron's eyes remained fixed on the blonde curls. If he thought they were gorgeous, no one would have been able to tell from his closed expression. Finally he said, "If she's Malfoy's, she's could never be gor..."

"Don't say something you'll regret, Ron," interrupted Harry; his words were quietly spoken but his eyes were narrowed in warning.

Ron stared at Harry, his eyes roving over each individual feature as if he was trying to figure out where he knew Harry from. "_Malfoy_, Harry!" he cried in darkly hysterical tones.

"No matter who her father is, her mother is _your_ sister. _She_..." Harry touched Bonnie's blonde curls, "is your niece."

Ron's brow creased as if he could not quite believe what Harry had just said. His eyes moved again from Harry to Bonnie's fair head and back. Then his face contorted and finally losing the grasp on his barely held together control, he let out a bellow of rage, flinging himself out of his chair and stalking around the kitchen like a madman.

At the sudden explosion of sound, Bonnie jerked violently in Harry's arms; she screamed in fright and began to howl again. Harry stood and began to jiggle the little body, crooning into her ear and trying very hard not to allow his body language to communicate his own anger. At the same time he shot Ron a filthy look that Ron ignored, so caught up was he in his rant.

"I can't believe any of this," he roared. "My sister isn't bloody dead after all _and_ she's got a kid who may or may not be fucking Malfoy's!" He advanced on Harry and poked him in the shoulder with a rigid forefinger. "And you...you've kept us in the dark for bloody weeks, Harry. _Weeks_! Who the hell..."

Before Ron could utter another sound, Harry—despite his distraught burden—suddenly had his wand in hand and pointed at Ron whose voice was instantly silenced. Without pause, Harry pointed the wand at the nearest chair and it shot out from the table towards Ron. It crashed into the back of his knees, sweeping his legs from under him so that he landed with a hard, painful thud on the seat. Ron, silently, and obviously incensed, began to struggle to free himself from the invisible bonds that kept him glued to the chair and the chair to the floor.

Ignoring this performance, Harry transfigured another chair into a large beanbag and feeling like a total bastard, he prised a nearly hysterical Bonnie from where she clung like a limpet, and with difficulty he transferred the screaming, struggling child to the squishy beanbag, holding her in place with one hand on her chest so that she couldn't squirm onto the floor. Her clothes quickly became dishevelled, her jumper riding up to reveal the edge of her singlet and the bare skin of her tummy.

With his heart breaking, Harry pointed his wand at the little girl and whispered, '_Somulus_'. The screaming immediately wound down to whimpers and then sniffles. Bonnie's wet eyes became heavy and her thumb found its way into her mouth again; seconds later, she was asleep.

Harry gazed at the sleeping child for several seconds, then he rounded on Ron. Ron, seconds too late, realised that he had crossed a line; he remembered the last time he had seen Harry this angry, and then, they had nearly fought with each other in a tent in the middle of nowhere. If not for Hermione's intervention, Ron wasn't sure how far that fight would have progressed. He did remember that he had wanted to tear Harry limb from limb. He knew Harry had felt the same way. Now it looked as if _the Chosen One_ was going to get the opportunity to do him damage. Of course, in an even fight, there was no way Harry would be able to lay a finger on him.

But now...he leaned back in his prison, trying to increase the distance between himself and an imminent explosion.

"You bastard!" hissed Harry. Ron blinked and cringed away even further as Harry's wand emitted a shower of red sparks that just missed his nose. "Do you ever stop to think before you allow that bloody foul temper of yours free rein?

"Did it mean nothing to you that you would frighten a little girl by bellowing like a wounded bull elephant? And I don't appreciate that you used totally inappropriate language within her hearing." Now it was Harry's turn to start pacing and he wheeled away from Ron, seemingly unaware that his wand was still emitting random fireworks, a couple of which hit the back of Ron's hand; his bellow of pain went unheard.

After staring for several seconds at the sleeping Bonnie, Harry turned back to Ron. His face was set and his eyes were dark with displeasure. Ron's eyes stayed glued to the wand tip and Harry, following his gaze, seemed to realise for the first time that his wand was putting on a similar show to one of the twins' _Conflagration Deluxe_ boxes. Sensibly, he put it on the table rather than concealing it about his person. Harry turned away again and ran his fingers viciously through his hair, making it even untidier than normal.

"God, Ron, you are such a...such a_ dick_!" He flung his arm out and pointed at his brother-in-all-but-name in dire allegation. The pointing finger joined its fellows in a clenched fist which looked as if it was having a hard time not connecting with a certain long nose.

"You, along with the rest of your family, have been grieving for your lost sister for over three years. But when a miracle happens and she reappears, do you delight in her return? Do you _hell_!" Harry was pacing again.

"Oh, I forgot," he ranted, waving his arms about for emphasis. "For all of two minutes, in the shock of the moment, you were caught up in the emotional turmoil and you clung to her as if you would never let her go, but as soon as that peanut of a brain started chugging into action again, you decided that in this whole _fucking_ mess, you are the one who is the most injured."

Up down, up down, Harry strode, his hands still chopping through the air, illustrating his ire. Ron tried to signal him to lift the spells that were keeping him silent and immobile, but Harry was blind to all but his anger. "Ginny has been through hell. She has been without any family, but even though you were all in mourning, you still had each other. She had her baby without _any_ family support." He stopped in front of Ron and bent down so their faces were on a level; he wasn't so far gone that he stood close enough for Ron to punch him.

"I am not going to be the one to tell Ginny's story because it isn't mine to tell, even if I knew the whole, or even most of it, which I don't. But I will tell you right now that I don't give a flying fuck if Malfoy is Bonnie's father. As far as I'm concerned, any Malfoy gene that might be lurking in that adorable little girl is totally outshone by her Weasley traits.

"And before I have to listen to any more of your bellyaching, let me remind you that it wasn't all that long ago that we fought a war to try and stamp out prejudice. You, my friend, need to get over your Malfoy paranoia. At least, you need to put it on hold until you listen—with a sympathetic ear— to your sister's story."

Ron was now sitting with a mutinous face and crossed arms. Harry sighed. Ron's body language told him he had not been entirely receptive to this little speech. He turned away, deciding to leave the moron to stew in his own juices but Hermione entered the kitchen at that moment.

In typical Hermione fashion, she sized up the situation in a nanosecond. She sighed, but looked at Harry rather than at her nearly apoplectic husband. "What happened?"

'Ask your dickhead of a husband," answered Harry, picking up his wand.

"A bit difficult, Harry, as you appear to have comprehensively silenced him."

Harry ignored her and Ron; instead he stood and stared at Bonnie for a moment before he waved his wand over her in a gentle back and forth motion. Hermione's mouth opened in shock as the little girl disappeared. Harry stood silently for a moment with his head slightly inclined, then, seemingly satisfied, he turned the beanbag back into a chair.

Determined to ignore his two friends, Harry then opened the oven and pulled out the partially cooked roast. With a series of wand movements he had the meat on a platter before sending it across the room to the fridge where the door opened and the platter came to rest where other contents had shuffled about to create a big enough space to allow it to settle.

Hermione's set face and thin lips showed that she had taken exception to this whole performance. Harry had caused the little girl to Disapparate as well as putting the food away and rearranging the contents of the fridge, non-verbally; not a breath of sound had escaped his lips. She hated herself, but she was so envious of Harry's new, formidable magical prowess. She still found it difficult to be outshone by her friend. After all, she had always been the best of the three of them at magic when they were at school.

Harry raised his eyebrows to question her obvious displeasure. "One of these days, Harry, that wand is going to backfire on you."

Harry sighed and shook his head. "Even with all the evidence that you've seen with your own eyes, you've never really been able to embrace wand lore, have you, Hermione?" Hermione's lips set in an even thinner line and she crossed her arms, her own wand gripped tightly in her right fist.

He held up his wand and jiggled it between his thumb and forefinger. "The wand chooses the wizard, Hermione. I know Mr Ollivander must have told you that when you bought your original wand, because he told everyone that."

"Yes, Harry," retorted Hermione with what she was sure was superior logic. "But that..." she pointed at Harry's wand, "...is not the exact wand that chose you, is it?"

Harry shook his head in exasperation and Hermione exploded. Ron was nearly apoplectic, forgotten by his wife and friend. "Something happened to your wand, Harry, when you mended it with the Elder Wand."

"And you can't even consider that I may have grown into my powers."

"What rubbish," disparaged Hermione. "Your powers changed when the Elder Wand transferred some of its magic to your wand."

Harry shrugged. "Well, I don't see the problem, myself. "It's still eleven inches of holly with a phoenix feather core. And the Elder Wand owed its allegiance to me when I used it to mend my wand. Perhaps that's why my wand imbibed some of its power."

Hermione's chin raised a notch, and Harry shook his head, clearly sick of the conversation. "I know I'm no Dumbledore, Hermione. I do know my limitations, even with this wand. And as I do not plan to take over the Wizarding World as the next Dark Lord, nor exploit my magic in any way, I'll keep my wand thank you very much."

Hermione snorted. Oh, no! You don't exploit your magic." She pointed at Ron. "What about what you just did to Ron?"

"Ask _him_ what he did to deserve that."

"I don't care what he did. Release him."

Harry turned away from her and made a show of picking up the kettle, shaking it to determine how full it was, before walking to the sink to fill it.

"See," he said over his shoulder, "I am far from averse to doing things the non-magical way." He put the kettle on the Aga and turned on the gas.

"Well, if you've entirely finished faffing about in both your magical and non-magical fashion, Harry, release Ron." ordered Hermione again, with barely concealed nastiness.

"If you want to listen to more of his shit, you release him," said Harry as he removed clean mugs from the cupboard.

Hermione's cheeks reddened and she crossed her arms. "You know very well that I cannot undo any spell you cast with that...that _super_ wand of yours."

Harry rolled his eyes but he turned and flicked his wand towards Ron. Instantly, mobility and voice were restored. Ron bounded up, an ugly scowl firmly in place as he glared at Harry. He looked as though he wanted to launch into another loud outburst, but with a glance at where the beanbag had been, he managed to moderate his tone even though Bonnie was no longer close. "You bloody wanker! Is that any way to treat a friend?" It seemed Ron had a conscience after all, or he had at least taken some of Harry's admonishments on board.

Harry's eyebrows rose and he took on a mock thoughtful expression. "I don't know, Ron. Perhaps I should take lessons from you on how to treat friends. I wonder if it's the same way you treat family.

"Both of you,_**SHUT UP**_!" Hermione's shrill voice and livid face did the trick. Harry glanced at her for a moment, his face closed; then he sighed and turned back to his tea preparations. He was really just occupying his hands with an activity while waiting for Ginny; he had lost count of the number of cups of tea that had been made and not drunk in the last hour.

Ron glared at his wife but she was having none of it. "Your sister has come home! That's the only thing that matters at this stage, Ron."

But it was obvious that a battle was still being played out in Ron's head. Husband and wife glared at each other for several more tense seconds, but then Ron's Basilisk glare left Hermione's face and settled just beyond her shoulder. Hermione saw some of the fury drain out of him before he thrust his hands into his jeans pockets and backed up until his butt came up against the cabinets.

Hermione turned to find a pale, but dry eyed Ginny standing at the base of the stairs. She quickly hurried to her sister-in-law and placing a comforting arm around her narrow shoulders, she led her to a chair. But Ginny resisted sitting down and Hermione looked at her with deep concern.

Ginny stepped away from Hermione, though she clasped her hand and squeezed it to show that she was not rejecting her overtures to be perverse. Ron was looking at his sister with narrowed eyes, but she totally ignored him and looked at Harry.

"Where's Bonnie?" she asked, though she displayed no overt concern. Her calmness showed the other two just how much Ginny trusted Harry when it came to her daughter.

"She's in her bed, sound asleep. She won't wake till I wake her." Ginny's eyebrows puckered a little but she nodded and Hermione was surprised that she showed no concern over the fact that Harry had obviously used magic on her daughter, because she and Ginny had been in Ginny's bedroom and Harry most certainly had not crossed that threshold.

Ginny noted the tea preparations, and she pulled a face before marching across the room and switching off the kettle. "I couldn't look another cup of tea in the face,' She stated categorically. Then without a by-your-leave—and to Harry's utter astonishment—she removed his wand from his loose-fingered grasp and pointed it at the cupboard above the refrigerator.

Everyone held their breath when Ginny said, "_Accio, Firewhisky_", in a firm voice. The door flew open and a bottle flew into her outstretched hand. Harry's miserable face broke into a smile of pure delight, but Ginny dared not look at him. She directed the wand at another cupboard, incanted, "_Accio glasses_," but instead of just four glasses, at least eight flew out and skimmed across the tabletop. Two overshot the mark, and moving in unison, Harry and Ron caught one each and placed them back with their fellows.

The only sign that Ginny was embarrassed by this tell-tale evidence of her rusty skills was a smudge of pink appearing on her cheeks. But she just handed Harry's wand back to him, and seated herself. She pulled the cork from the bottle and poured four measures of the potent liquor and distributed them; the four superfluous glasses standing sentinel in the middle of the table. Ron and Hermione had followed Ginny's lead and seated themselves; Harry was leaning back against the cabinets, his arms and legs crossed; his glass remained on the table where he could easily reach it.

Ron wasted no time in downing his measure of the potent beverage in one swallow; he needed something after the traumas of the last hour or so. When he opened his eyes after the long slow burn along his gullet subsided, he was looking directly into Ginny's melted chocolate eyes. He stared, trying hard for belligerent, but when her expression didn't alter-it seemed to be somewhere between sadness and regret-he reached for the Firewhisky again and slopped another large measure into his glass.

Hermione's lips tightened. "A fortifying dram might ease the tension, Ron, but getting drunk hardly seems to be the way to..."

"No, Hermione," interrupted Ginny, "If several drams will make him feel better, let him drink." Ginny then picked up her own glass and though it had been her idea, she showed a lot less bravado than her brother as she threw the contents down her throat.

The coughing fit that followed was not unexpected. Hermione bit her lip and Harry straightened up and made an involuntary move to help, but whilst continuing to cough and splutter Ginny held up her hand to indicate that she did not want assistance.

When she finally hauled in a normal, fortifying breath and wiped her streaming eyes with her sleeves, she turned her bleary gaze on Ron again. He too had watched the paroxysm with no small degree of concern, but when he saw that Ginny was fine and that she wasn't backing down, he leaned forward and filled her glass again.

"Maybe we could both do with more than one." After a few seconds, Ginny nodded her agreement but her next sip was much more modest; Ron's too was a little less robust; he only half emptied his glass.

Harry finally crossed to the table and seated himself. He picked up his own glass of Firewhisky and studied it contents. Hermione followed suit and declaring a silent truce, they toasted each other and half emptied their glasses. The silence stretched, but the overt tension had lessened considerably.

Ginny kept both hands clasped around her glass and every now and then, she took another sip, placing the glass carefully back on the table each time. The others drank as well while they waited for whatever was going to happen next; even Ron's anger seemed to have abated for the time being.

Finally, Ginny sighed deeply; it was obvious to the others that she had reached a place where there was no turning back and with her hands shaking slightly even though they were wrapped around her glass, she raised her eyes and looked from one anxious face to another.

She opened her mouth to speak, but another sip of whisky was necessary to lubricate her vocal cords. Her eyes remained focused on Ron and after licking her lips, she said, "This isn't going to be a short story, nor is it going to paint any of us in a good light."

The tips of Ron's ears went red and he raised a ginger eyebrow at this pronouncement, but Ginny raised her small chin pugnaciously and straightened herself determinedly in her chair. "If I'm to get through this, Ron, I have to do it without constant interruptions and disbelieving gestures and noises. This isn't only about my actions-though of course my disappearance was entirely my own doing-but the three of you, as well...as well as other parties, are also major players." No one missed the slight catch in her voice when she spoke of other parties.

Despite the resolve in Ginny's voice, the silence stretched again. Harry saw her lower lip quiver slightly, but it was Hermione who stroked her back and encouraged her to begin. "We're all here for you Ginny," she said gently.

Ginny turned brimming eyes towards Hermione. "But that's just it, Hermione, part of the reason for what happened was because you weren't there for me that last year at school." Her eyes moved to Harry and then to Ron, and she dashed the tears away angrily. "None of you were."

Ron's face took on a mottled hue and his hand tightened angrily around his whisky glass. "If you're going to sit there and put the blame for your..."

"Shut up, Ron." The words were said quietly but the threat behind them was unmistakable. Harry's green eyes never left Ginny and he nodded his head to indicate that she continue. Ron made an indistinct choking noise but with Hermione's glare reinforcing Harry's quiet command, he subsided resentfully, picking up his glass and throwing the remaining contents down his throat before defiantly pouring another, overly large shot.

Ginny ignored Ron but her hands were shaking as she gathered her slightly dishevelled locks together and twisted them a couple of times and let the length fall down her back.

She finally raised her eyes to her brother again and after hauling in another deep breath, Ginny began. At first her voice was shaky, but as she got into her stride-this story was definitely ready to be told-she became surer and her words flowed more easily.

Harry didn't realise how tense he was until his jaw started to ache because he had been biting his back teeth together so hard. He had been waiting months to find out what had happened to the woman he had come to love, but now the time was here, he wasn't sure he was ready for revelations that were going to depict him in a bad light. And he knew that was what he was going to hear.

Hermione looked as if she too was expecting the worst, but Ron's tight expression showed that though he was being forced to listen, he was damned if he would accept any culpability for whatever had happened all those years ago to make his sister take the drastic (and in his opinion, unforgivable) step she had done.

HPGW

"That year started great," said Ginny quietly. "Dumbledore bought Harry to us really early in the holidays and things were great at home. Maybe it was because Fred and George were away at work most of the time that the three of you let me be part of the gang. We hung out together all the time...well, when I wasn't doing the stuff Mum insisted I do."

Ginny took a small sip of her whisky. "Anyway, we all seemed to enjoy the summer. But then we went to Diagon Alley and things changed."

"Changed how?" asked Hermione in a timid voice.

Ginny shrugged. "Harry was totally preoccupied with something about..._about_ Draco Malfoy and you two..." she indicated Ron and Hermione with an inclination of her head, "kept on ganging up and disagreeing with him and more or less telling him he was deluded."

The three friends looked at each other. Harry's face was neutral but Hermione's face was flaming. Ron quickly looked down at his hands where they were fastened around his glass; he didn't want to remember that time and how wrong he and Hermione had been, how deluded they had thought Harry at the time only to see all his theories come to pass."

"Anyway, most of the fun had gone out of the holidays and I found myself mostly isolated again; just like it always was whenever the three of you were together."

"I would have thought that you'd have been busy writing love letters to your current fling," bit out Ron nastily, his shamefacedness of several seconds before forgotten. "Dean Thomas, wasn't it?"

Ginny gritted her teeth but she managed to answer in a neutral tone. "Even your memory isn't that feeble, Ron," said Ginny with spirit. "You know very well it was Dean and yes, my correspondence did increase a bit for a short time, but it turned out writing to Dean was mostly a one-way exercise; that began to pall pretty quickly. I think it's a hard and fast rule that teenage boys write as little and as infrequently as they possibly can. Even if they are in a so-called relationship."

Ron snorted. "_So-called_! There wasn't anything so-called about you and Thomas snogging whenever the opportunity arose once we were back at school."

"_Ron_!"

"_My_ opportunities were nowhere near as frequent as the actuality of your snogging sessions with one Lavender Brown, brother mine," taunted Ginny, but when Ron's colour rose alarmingly again, she banged her hand down on the table and any rejoinder was forestalled. "We'll be here till next Christmas if you don't let me get on with this story."

Ron sat back, crossed his arms and put one trainer-shod foot on the opposite knee. "Go ahead. Never let it be said that I would interrupt the telling of a good fairytale."

Ginny made an obvious effort to calm herself. she had known this would be an Herculean task. It would be so easy just to get up, and disappear up the stairs and crawl into bed. _Oh, so easy_. But she would still be in limbo and that was no longer an option. Oh yes, she knew she had Harry, and that was more than she had ever expected, but she also needed her family; after all these years, she needed her family.

She had made one huge mistake nearly four years ago and she wasn't about to compound that by letting Ron get to her so that she threw everything away again.

"Go on, Ginny," urged Hermione in a soothing voice. "Ignore this idiot!" She glared at Ron who scowled back. "You know he's always suffered from foot-in-mouth disease. And he can't ever admit to being in the wrong."

"_Merlin_, Hermione!" Ron said through gritted teeth, unfolding himself in a furious movement to spring to his feet and start pacing the floor. The fury and pain that emanated from him was palpable. "I'm not the one who ran away and left the whole bloody family to grieve, thinking that somehow I had been taken from the bloody train and killed on the way home from school. How can there be any bloody excuse for that?!"

"There isn't any excuse," Ginny yelled back. "And I have to live with my actions for the rest of my life. But there is an explanation. Four years ago, I set myself on a course that ruined my life and left my family bereft and I have to explain. I know you will probably still hate me and never want anything to do with me, but _please_ listen to me."

Ron walked across to the window and stared out into the small back garden. He focused on the play equipment, and after a fraught minute, he rubbed his whiskery jaw viciously and nodded without turning around.

Ginny put an elbow on the table and rested her forehead on her hand. Her voice was a monotone as she began her story.

"Things seemed OK for a while once we were back at school. Dean was fun...we had fun..." She watched Ron's shoulders hunch and hurried on. "It wasn't all snogging, Ron, believe me. I...I didn't really like it all that much to be totally honest but he was supposed to be my boyfriend.

"Then the Quidditch season started and it was obvious you didn't want me on the team." Ginny was addressing Ron's back; it was as though Harry and Hermione weren't even in the room anymore.

"But I won a spot as a Chaser and then Katy Bell was cursed and Dean got on the team by default and things just went from bad to worse. You were always in a foul mood, Hermione walked around like a lost sheep unless she was with Harry and Harry more often than not had his head totally in the clouds.

"Lavender became attached to you at the lips and Dean wanted to compete with your performances, but by then, I knew my relationship with Dean was not what I wanted." Silence fell again and Harry took a sip of his Firewhisky. His movement attracted Ginny's attention and she gazed at him with an expression of utter misery.

She swallowed. "The reason Dean didn't do it for me was because I cared deeply for someone else and he didn't seem to know I existed." Hermione looked from Ginny to Harry and back again and put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, Ginny," she whispered, her voice stricken. Ron's gaze moved between his wife and sister, his brow contracted slightly.

"Are you saying you_ still_ cared for Harry after all that time; that the little girl crush had turned into real—_err_—" Hermione floundered a bit—"romantic _love_?"

Ginny nodded a little self-consciously and she looked away from Harry in embarrassment. But Harry had shut his eyes. She had wanted him at a time when girls didn't even register on his radar, even his foolish interlude with Cho had receded to the dark recesses of his mind. He had since tried to block out most of his sixth year at school, so horrendous had most of it been. His focus hadn't been romance, but Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Dumbledore and Horcruxes. Even Quidditch had taken a back seat despite the fact he had been captain.

Now, he wanted her...loved her and _she_ was only accepting him because she had no other option if she wanted to return to her family and a normal, magical life.

Harry came back to the present when Ron began stalking back and forth again, his shoulders hunched up around his ears again. Hermione's, "Ron, calm down," seemed to go unheard but suddenly Ron stopped directly opposite his sister. His colour was still high, but when he spoke, he didn't yell, though it was obvious he was making a huge effort to keep the volume at a normal level.

He levelled a shaking finger at Ginny. "Then how," he asked in a low voice, "if you supposedly cared for a totally oblivious Harry and were actually _in_ a relationship with Dean Thomas,-_how_ in the hell did you end up giving birth to _Malfoy's_ kid?"

"Her name is Bonnie," bit out Ginny, and her hand shook as she reached for the whisky bottle to refill her glass.

"And," added Harry, his voice deadly, and his green eyes glacial as he glared at Ron, "she's Ginny's child, and as soon as we're married, she'll be mine as well because I'm going to adopt her."

**TBC...**


	12. Chapter 12

FG Ch12: Mark 2. 12:45 14/07/2013

**A/N: Just a warning, folks , that this is a very long chapter. Everyone wanted me to get to the point, and so I have written until the final denouement. **

**But though her unknown history has been told, she still has to be revealed to the rest of her family. So, the story is not finished. **

**Onwards...**

Ron goggled at Harry, but Hermione didn't look as gobsmacked by this announcement as she should have; she was studying her entwined fingers where they rested on the tabletop. Ron turned his shocked countenance on his wife. "You knew?" he said in an accusatory tone.

"I only found out up in the bedroom," she said, somewhat guiltily, unable to look her husband directly in the eye; her entwined fingers still held her attention. "After Ginny began to settle down, she told me that Harry had asked her to marry him."

"And you didn't think that was important enough to tell me?" He said through gritted teeth.

"There's hardly been time, nor opportunity, Ron," retorted Hermione angrily.

"And what makes you think you should be privy to information regarding my future, Ron?" snapped Ginny. "This is nobody's business but Harry's and mine."

"Like hell!" growled Ron.

Ginny stood up and leaned her hands on the table, her angry and determined face close to her brother's. "Get this straight, Ron. I _am_ marrying Harry whether you approve or not. Now, I would hate for you to decide that you are going to cut your nose off to spite your face and wipe your best friend out of your life like you have me..." She stood up straight and put her hands on her hips. Ron looked into her set face and squirmed in his seat. Harry, wisely, had remained silent during this confrontation. But he was silently rejoicing that Ginny was talking openly about marry him.

"And as it's obvious that you're not going to listen to anything I have to say without prejudice, I'm not going to waste my breath telling you anymore. So I'll be off to my room as my presence seems to be a catalyst for raising your blood pressure to dangerous levels. And though I'm sure your wife is thoroughly disgusted with you-at least I hope she is-I'm sure she wouldn't be happy if you had a stroke."

And with that, Ginny turned on her heel and left the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "Perhaps I'll see you around some time, Ron..." She rounded the corner in the stairwell and her voice floated back to them. "But not if I see you first."

Ron sat in stunned silence, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the stairwell. Hermione and Harry both stared at him, Harry with hard eyed disapproval, Hermione with dark anger.

Hermione stood and rounded the table, fury emanating from her in waves. "I'm off, Harry. But I'll see you soon..." she turned and glared at Ron before returning her attention to Harry. "But without this buffoon in tow.

"He might want to write you out of his life, but I'm not going to lose my best friend, nor my sister in law, all over again." She kissed Harry on the top of his head and headed for the stairs. Two steps up she stopped and turned back, a dark figure in the deep shadow of the narrow stairwell.

"And I want to be there when the two of you get married."

"Hermione!" squawked Ron in disbelief.

"I do not have anything to say to you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, neither now, nor tonight. Perhaps not for several days in fact."

Ron spluttered, "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I'm going to say goodbye to Ginny, and then I'll be going to my parents for however long it takes me to decide that I wish to converse with you again." And with that parting promise, she was gone. Once again Ron was staring blankly at empty space, his mouth hanging open.

After a few seconds of silence, he rounded on Harry. "This is all your bloody fault," he growled.

Harry slowly got to his feet. "No, mate," he said, shaking his head. "This could have gone smoothly. You could have welcomed Ginny back with open arms and you could have listened to her story. Instead, you got on your high horse, and that horse shat over everything."

Ron sneered. "I suppose you welcomed her back with a little more than open arms..."

Before Harry's brain could catch up with his instincts and before Ron realised he was in danger, he was flat on his back on the floor and Harry was standing over him rubbing the knuckles of his right hand."

"Get out!" said Harry in a deadly, voice. "Go home and don't come back until you've taken a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror, Ron."

A totally floored (in more than one sense of the word) Ron had shakily raised himself on one elbow and was trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose with his sleeve; he was grappling in his jeans, trying to pull a handkerchief out of a pocket. Harry watched dispassionately as he eventually succeeded, but by this time, Ron's old wind-cheater was a mess, even his jeans legs had splotches of blood on them, not to mention his hands and face were covered in it. Suddenly, in the face of the damage he had inflicted, Harry felt his fury ebb away, leaving him deflated and depressed; for Ginny's sake, he had so wanted today to be a new beginning...

He had to get away in case the fury came back and if he had to keep looking at Ron, or replayed in his mind what Ron had inferred, then it just might. But before he left, he said in flat tones, "And if you mention Ginny's return to the family before she's ready, a bloody nose will be the least of your problems."

He moved towards the stairs, but Ron spoke in a muffled, nasal voice before he reached them. "Tell me how I can listen to any of what she has to say without losing it, Harry. _Tell_ _me_!"

Harry stood for several seconds with his eyes closed, then he slowly turned back. He should leave. Why didn't he just walk out and let the idiot stew in his own juices? Would anything he said enable volatile Ron to be able to listen calmly and objectively to what Ginny had to say? Harry sighed and leaned back against the wall.

"I suggest you ask yourself two very pertinent questions," he said flatly, almost as if he knew he was wasting his breath trying to give Ron any advice at all.

Ron had staggered to his feet and was fumbling for a chair-Harry was shocked (and grateful) that he had not jumped up with his fists flying. But Ron had other concerns: his nose was still pouring blood. Once seated, he put his head back but that just made him start to choke as the blood flowed down the back of his throat.

Harry couldn't stand it any longer; he reached into his pocket for his wand and striding to where Ron languished, he forced his hand down and pointed the wand at the red and swollen blob of flesh that used to be a perfectly good nose, and which Harry assumed was broken. He murmured, "_Episkey_" and ignoring Ron's obvious discomfort, he thoroughly cleansed the blood from his face, hands and clothing with a non-verbal _Tergeo_.

Ron grimaced at the short, sharp burst of pain and then tentatively felt his nose. Finding it perfectly sound, he raised his eyes to Harry; but instead of anger or resentment, Harry thought he saw shame and acceptance of his culpability and its consequent punishment. When Harry's eyes remained hard and brilliant as emeralds, Ron lowered his head and began to pick a bit of blood that Harry's spell had missed out from under a nail. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"What for?" asked Harry dispassionately, "the punch, or the first aid?"

Ron looked up again, and finally said in a voice that was as defeated as it was lacking in volume. "Both, I guess."

Harry sighed and shook his head, seemingly at a loss as to what to do with the idiot seated before him. "You Ron, are your own worst enemy," he said in exasperated tones. He dropped into a chair and reached for the nearly empty bottle of Firewhisky. He pointed his wand at it and immediately, dark amber liquid gurgled upwards, refilling the bottle. Ron watched with the air of someone who had seen many similar feats of magic, and when Harry poured two glasses and passed one to Ron, he fiddled with the glass for a moment before picking it up and taking a long swallow.

Both young men sat in silence, Harry staring at Ron and Ron staring into his glass.

"What did you mean?" asked Ron out of the blue.

Harry's eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean, what did _I_ mean?

"What are the two pertinent questions I need to ask myself?" Ron mumbled. Harry sat back and crossed one ankle over the other knee. When the silence continued, Ron finally looked up. "_Tell_ _me!"_ he begged. "I have to fix this."

"Why? Because Hermione is totally pissed with you—to the point of not wanting to be in the same house as you, or because you're really sorry about how you've treated Ginny?"

Ron looked as if he had just been asked to recite the twelve uses of dragon's blood.

"Bzzz! _Too_ late."

Ron's eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'too late'?"

"I mean you shouldn't have had to think about the _bloody_ _answer_, Ron!"

"Merlin, Harry. You're being a bit harsh. This has all been a frigging shock. It isn't easy for me."

Harry leaned forward and jabbed a finger in Ron's direction. 'And you think it's easy for Ginny? She was willing to bare her soul to you...to us. But it was mostly for you..."

Ron was shaking his head before Harry had finished speaking. "No, Harry. There is a difference?"

Harry raised his eyebrows sceptically.

"Yeah," said Ron, grabbing the bottle again and filling his glass with more liquid courage. Without asking, he slopped more into Harry's glass as well. "Ginny knew what was going to happen today; she knew I was coming and she knew what she was going to say. But her appearance was a monumental shock on my part."

"Sounds like justification for the way you treated her to me, Ron." Ron shook his head again, but Harry didn't let him talk. "Yeah, she knew you were coming, but she couldn't have known—or perhaps she did know, but she would have been hoping—that you weren't going to treat her like a total...like a bloody _prostitute_!"

Ron's stared, shocked. _Put like that..._ He shut his eyes and began to shake his head as though he could not believe he had done any such thing, hoping the gesture would somehow alleviate some of the guilt Harry was heaping on him.

But Harry nodded with conviction. "It's no use denying it; you know it's true. You hadn't even heard what she had to say and you were already condemning her, automatically making her the guilty party in any scenario she may have presented.

Ron's Adam's apple bobbed up and down and he shook his head again. But the gesture was full of doubt. "I never," he croaked, knowing full well he had done just that.

"Yes, Ron, you bloody did!"

Ron emptied the contents of his glass down his gullet and immediately poured another. He sloshed an equal measure into Harry's glass and onto the table; Ron didn't even notice. Something else he didn't notice was that Harry kept touching his wand, and when he wrapped his hand around his glass, the liquid within disappeared. Harry then raised the glass and pretended to drink.

"It's _Malfoy_! The thought of bloody Malfoy touching her...it...it just makes me want to cast the _Cruciatus Curse_ on the bastard." Harry had no rebuttal for that statement and the two of them sat drinking (or pretending to drink) for the next fifteen minutes, their thoughts their own.

Finally Ron spoke again, his voice beginning to slur. "You ne...never told me what the t...two questions are."

Harry pretended to have to think carefully. Ron watched his friend with one eye closed-he could focus better that way-as Harry made it look as if the gears were slowly engaging. He held up one finger, but he pretended he needed to rest his elbow on the table to support his arm. Number one: are you glad she's alive?"

Ron goggled. "What kind of a bloody shtupid question is that?"

"Then why did you attack her verbally, like you did?" Ron's answer was to knock back another slug, but his eyes, now barely focused, were beginning to look a little moist. He ran a long finger under his nose and sniffed noisily.

"A...and number two?" asked Ron after pondering Harry's question and accusation for a minute. He held up one finger in case Harry was too far gone to know what question he wanted answered; his words were now barely intelligible, and _he_ really _did_ have to rest his elbow on the table to support his forearm.

Harry stared hard at Ron, but it was all Ron could now do to keep his head up and his eyes open. "Number two, Ron? Number two is...'do you love your sister'?"

Ron jerked his head up, his eyes opening wide. But when he opened his mouth to answer, the words wouldn't form properly. He tried for several seconds until he finally burst out."Of courshe I bloody love her." Tears filled his eyes and he sniffed and swiped at his nose again. "I bl-bloody m-mourned her, Harry. She'sh my l-little si-shishter."

He stared at Harry, tears streaming down his face. "I-I jus' c-can't be-believe she'sh here," he wailed. "My little shishter ishn't dead." And with that, Ron plonked his leaden arms on the table-knocking his half empty glass to the floor in the process-and lowered his head onto his arms and sobbed.

Harry watched with a lump in his throat; this was real distress; this was a brother who had finally realised that his sister had been returned to him. Oh, yeah, sure he was as drunk as a skunk, but Harry knew these emotions were real. Not just the maudlin sentiments of a man well into his cups. Besides, as a general rule, when Ron got drunk he began laughing hysterically over nothing.

Harry left Ron where he was and set about cleaning up the bomb site that was his kitchen: he directed dirty glasses into the dishwasher, the clean glasses back into the cupboard, and he cleaned the tabletop and the floor, where there was not just spilt Firewhisky, but also blood that he had missed. Darcy and Delilah watched the activity sleepily from their perch. It had been far from easy to sleep today.

While Harry worked, Ron's sobs had slowly wound down, and when the kitchen was back to its usual pristine state, Ron was asleep and snoring quietly. Harry stood and observed him for a minute before making up his mind. There were 4 flights of stairs up to Ron and Hermione's old room, and even levitating him that far would be an effort. So Harry did what he had done with Bonnie and Disapparated Ron with his wand, then twisting on the spot he followed him so that he could settle him into the big bed comfortably; Ron would definitely be there for the night.

When he had finished, Harry sent his Patronus to Hermione explaining the bare bones of what had happened (though omitting how he had punched Ron in the nose) and telling her where Ron was spending the night.

As Harry was conjuring a bucket and putting it in a strategic position beside the bed, the anticipated otter appeared in front of him and said in Hermione's voice, "thanks for looking after the idiot," and then she followed up with, "let him suffer in the morning." Harry grinned. She really knew how to hurt a guy.

~HPGW~

After Ron was settled, Harry had gone to Ginny's room and told her that her brother was still in the house but would be well out of it for the rest of the day. She hadn't looked too happy, but was determined to go on as normal and after Harry had woken Bonnie from her sleep and the little girl seemed to be much as she ever was, they had returned to the kitchen and prepared supper together. Bonnie kept herself occupied by doing some crafty work at her little table tucked in a corner of the large kitchen. As long as her mother and Harry were in sight, she appeared happy, but Ginny caught her casting surreptitious glances at the stairs once in a while.

By unspoken agreement, Harry and Ginny didn't speak of the disastrous events of the day, but Harry could see Ginny was miserable that things had turned out the way they had. At one stage, she had opened the fridge and been confronted with the leg of pork, taking up pride of place on a shelf. Her face went blank and she retrieved what she wanted and firmly shut the door. While she poured Bonnie a glass of milk, she asked Harry if he would get rid of the meat-that the smell of it made her nauseated.

Harry nodded, but he waited till Ginny and Bonnie had disappeared up the stairs before removing the pork and banishing it. He somehow got the feeling that pork would never again be on the menu in the Potter household.

Harry had hoped that Ginny would want to talk about their upcoming marriage, but when he knocked on her door, she had explained that the events of the day had exhausted her and she had decided on an early night with Bonnie, though she was afraid that Bonnie might not want to sleep for hours yet. Harry explained that by all appearances she _had been_ asleep, but her body rhythm would have been functioning as normal while she was under the spell and that she would be ready for bed at her normal time.

After giving Bonnie a goodnight kiss and cuddle, Harry had left the room disappointed, but as he was closing the door, Ginny pulled it open again. She had already thanked Harry for his support that day but now, to his delighted surprise, she cupped his face, and standing on tiptoe, had kissed him quite thoroughly on the mouth.

Harry's face was adorned with a big grin that he could not shift and after checking that Ron hadn't chocked in his own vomit, Harry had gone to bed happier than he had been for a long time.

_It was enough to be going on with._

Unbeknownst to him, and despite how the plans for the day had gone down the toilet, Ginny too, went to sleep smiling.

When Harry appeared in the kitchen the next morning, Ginny was drinking a cup of tea and reading a book, and Bonnie was dipping a toast soldier into a soft boiled egg, being very careful not to get any yolk on her fingers. They both looked up at his appearance; Bonnie beamed at him, and while Ginny's smile was much more circumspect, it was, nonetheless, a happy smile. Harry descended on Bonnie and blurted a kiss on the side of her neck which sent the little girl into a fit of the giggles, causing a dollop of egg yolk to drop onto the tabletop.

Before she could become upset by her clumsiness, which she was wont to do when she was eating, Harry swiped a finger though the runny yellow goo and popped it in his mouth. He closed his eyes in ecstasy and rubbed his stomach, making appreciative 'yum yum' noises. Bonnie giggled again, and she dipped her soldier back into the nearly denuded eggshell and held the offering up to Harry. Harry swooped on it and took a big bite, leaving just remnants of crumbs between Bonnie's fingertips, and causing her to squeal with delight, especially when Harry said in a serious voice that he thought he might have swallowed a bit of finger.

It took a while for the giggles to subside, but Ginny was finally able to ask Harry if he would like some breakfast and when Bonnie chimed in and yelled, "soldiers and dippy egg", Harry succumbed to persuasion.

Ginny smirked. Are, you sure you wouldn't appreciate something a little more grown up?"

Harry contrived to look offended. "I love soldiers and dippy egg," he said with a conviction that made both Ginny and Bonnie laugh.

Harry boiled the kettle to make a fresh pot of tea while Ginny concentrated on lowering two eggs into a pot of boiling water. She was very aware of Harry standing near her. "How do you feel today?" He asked quietly. "Did you sleep well?"

Ginny nodded and busied herself with the toaster. "I'm fine, and I slept the night away. Madam over there," she gestured with her head at Bonnie who was finishing off her toast, "was awake at six, so a sleep in was out of the question."

"So what have you been up to if you're just finishing breakfast now?" Asked Harry as he retrieved Ginny's cup and made her a fresh cup of tea along with his own.

"She crawled into bed with me and I read to her for the next hour and a half-well, I actually read to her for only twenty minutes and then she went and got her own book because the one I'm reading began to pall for her after that."

"And what were you reading that bored her. She'll usually listen, no matter what is read to her." It was true; Bonnie was perfectly content just to listen to Ginny or Harry's voice; the content of the book was secondary.

Ginny gestured with her spoon towards the book lying face down on the table and Harry wandered across and picked it up while sipping his tea. His eyebrows rose in surprise but then a big grin spread across his face. "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5", he recited. "Gin, this is brilliant."

Ginny reddened in the face of Harry's enthusiasm. "Well, after yesterday's less than stellar performance, I thought I'd better start boning up on my spell work."

Harry carried the plates of toast and eggs to the table and when they had both seated themselves and Harry was liberally spreading butter, he said, "I think what you achieved yesterday was amazing. You hadn't handled a wand for nearly four years, except for that

Summoning Charm you performed above the garage. And the wand wasn't even yours."

"Ginny blushed again. "Well I can only hope that going through the old text book and getting my own wand back will put me back on an uphill trajectory."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Don't you mean a new wand?"

Ginny shook her head and glanced across to where Bonnie was sticking stickers into an enormous scrap book Harry had bought her so that she could create elaborate works of art in their multitudes. "No, Harry, I mean _my_ wand.

"But you told me you got rid of your wand," said Harry, his toast soldier with its egg yolk coating dripping steadily onto his plate.

"I did say that, yes, but I didn't say I had destroyed it." Harry stared at her. " I hid it and I know exactly where I hid it."

"But if that's the case, why haven't you told me before now? I could have gone and retrieved it for you at any time."

Ginny looked into her cup of tea as if she might find the answer in there. "I wasn't ready, Harry. Holding your wand back in the flat and performing that Summoning Charm-well, it just didn't feel right. It felt so foreign, almost as if I had never held a wand in my hand before. And you have to admit my effort was pretty lousy."

"But there was nothing to summon except that little finger puppet," Harry pointed out logically.

"How do you know? Perhaps there was something else there that resisted the charm."

Harry shook his head and as Bonnie rushed over just then, he automatically lifted her onto his knee, where she proceeded, as both adults had predicted, to dip soldiers into Harry's egg and feed them to him, withholding an occasional portion for herself. Talking was out of the question for a few minutes, but eventually, Bonnie became caught up in making a mess while trying to spread some jam onto a soldier.

Harry took up the conversation where they had left off. "If there had been anything else to summon in that room, it would have come to you."

Ginny looked doubtful but Harry continued. "You're magical Ginny, quite powerful if my memory serves me correctly, and your magic, combined with my wand would have summoned anything that wasn't nailed down if you had wanted it to come to you."

Bonnie was now trying to force feed harry a soldier coated in egg and blackberry jam. He looked quite nauseated, and glowering at a grinning Ginny who found the whole performance hilarious, he took as tiny a bite of the gastronomic obscenity as he could. Trying not to retch, he made a performance of enjoying the offering as if it had been the nectar of the God's. Finally, it appeared as if Bonnie thought he had consumed sufficient to fill him and he could drink some tea. With great care, he picked up his cup and manoeuvred it so that he could drink without Bonnie being in danger of knocking it.

"So,' he finally said when Bonnie finally went back to her crafts, 'what's changed now?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not a hundred percent sure. But yesterday, the spell came more easily and much more readily to my lips and even though the execution left a lot to be desired, I felt more in control-it was more natural. I feel like I might be ready to do more than just live in a magical house."

Harry looked triumphant, and Ginny continued. "Perhaps that's what it is. Being back in the magical world-being surrounded by magic again, instead of having been isolated from it for so long." She put her cup into its saucer and holding it by the rim, she turned it back and forth in little half circles.

"I never realised just how much I missed it." She looked at Harry, and he stared back intently. "I have you to thank for bringing me home; for bringing me back to my heritage and enabling me to be able to bring my daughter up in the world she belongs in.

"I resisted you at every turn. I was horrible to you, and all you were trying to do-are still doing-was help me."

Harry and Ginny gazed at each other for several intense seconds; Harry wanted, in turns, to kiss her on her delectable lips, and to bring up the subject of their wedding-especially after that impassioned speech-but before he could open his mouth, Ron, wearing his trainers unlaced, slid down the last couple of steps, managing somehow not to fall on his butt. He groaned as he put one unsteady hand out to support himself against the wall and the other up to his head. Ginny's face closed up and before anyone could speak, Bonnie screamed and launched herself across the room and buried her head in her mother's lap, the grip from her little hands so convulsive, she pinched the tender flesh of Ginny's flanks through her thick jumper.

Her face contorted with pain, Ginny managed to shoot Ron a filthy glare as she tried to detach the little fingers from where they held on like pincers, and hoist Bonnie into her arms. But the little girl screamed again and refused to release her hold or lift her head.

Ron's pallor intensified as his bleary eyes fixed on the tiny, trembling figure clinging to her mother, too afraid to lift her head and look at the scary man who, just yesterday, had terrified her with his loud voice and aggressive behaviour. While Ginny tried to comfort Bonnie by leaning over her, rubbing her back and whispering endearments and reassurances, Ron looked at Harry and raised his hands in apology and helpless appeal.

Harry just shook his head as if he despaired for Ron. "Way to go, Uncle Ron," he said in, mock-impressed tones. "Definitely an Uncle-of-the-Year Award contender." He stood and rounded the table where he crouched down and placed a gentle hand on the tiny heaving back, adding his reassurances to Ginny's.

Ron looked on guiltily; it seemed as if the kid wasn't going to respond to any encouragement. He was thinking that perhaps he had better leave when Harry, after a whispered comment in the little girl's ear, that it appeared even her mother did not hear, made Bonnie finally, reluctantly, relinquish her hold on Ginny and transfer her arms to Harry's neck. Despite the stranglehold that made breathing a little difficult, he hoisted her securely into his arms as he stood, all the while managing to keep her face hidden from Ron.

Harry stepped away from Ginny and when she looked as if she intended to rise to join him, he shook his head. Ginny's forehead furrowed in a thunderous frown, but Harry ignored her anger. "Bonnie and I are going to take a walk in the square," he stated.

"I'll come too," hissed Ginny through gritted teeth.

Harry put a hand on Ginny's shoulder and shook his head again. "No, I think this is the perfect opportunity for you and Ron to talk." Ginny's eyes narrowed to murderous slits and, if possible, Ron looked even sicker. Ginny seriously wanted to get away from her brother...and at the moment, all he wanted was a Hangover Cure Potion.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Harry." Ginny enunciated each word as though talking to someone very simple. You're likely to come home to utter carnage!" She added; the threat in her voice very real.

Harry turned to Ron. "I won't come home to utter carnage, will I, Ron?" Ron closed his bloodshot eyes and shook his head. The movement was halted before it had barely begun and Ron groaned, his pallor increasing, making his freckles stand out like currants in a Spotted Dick. He was now leaning fully against the corner of the wall where it turned into the stairwell; he had not progressed any further into the kitchen because he was worried he might up-chuck if he moved.

"You mistake me, Harry," enunciated Ginny venomously, as she leapt to her feet. "It'll be your best friend's blood you'll be clearing up, not mine. I might not have a wand to hand, but there are plenty of knives in this kitchen."

She was not going to be ordered about, regardless of the speech she had just spouted to Harry before Ron made his inglorious appearance; she practically ran past Harry-leaving Bonnie to his tender ministrations because she was not going to get into a battle with him in front of her prat of a brother.

Her efforts to get past Ron however, were brought undone when he grabbed her arm before she could ascend the stairs. She looked at his hand and then turned her furious visage upon him. Ron released her so quickly, anyone watching would assume he had been burned. But when, without a word, she turned away to continue on her way, Ron spoke: "Please...Ginny. We have to talk."

Ginny ran halfway up the staircase before she slowed and finally stopped. Her hands clenched at her sides and she stood with her head bowed, her whole posture displaying fury at herself for not being able to resist her brother's entreaty...for not being able to just continue on her way.

"And that's gone bloody brilliantly to plan, so far, hasn't it, Ron?" she said bitterly.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Ron asserted, desperately. "I was totally in the wrong."

Ginny turned: Ron was standing at the base of the stairs, staring up at her. Because he was looking up, his face was in shadow, but she could see that he still looked terrible. She descended one step.

"Yes, you were in the wrong." She kept coming until Ron had to retreat to allow her to step back into the kitchen. "Three and a half years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life, but yesterday, I saw you again, and I thought...no, I _hoped_...hoped that you might have reverted to the big brother I was always so close to. I needed to get the past off my chest...I finally felt able to do just that. But you were only interested in trying and convicting me without granting me a proper hearing."

Ron swallowed convulsively and Ginny could see his Adam's Apple bob up and down. "I'm ready to listen now. I promise you," he croaked. "It's just...it's Malfoy. I..."

Ginny exploded; she pushed him in the chest with the force of her combined frustration and anger, sending him staggering back. "Then this dissertation is already at an end, Ron!" Her body angled towards him and her clenched fists rested on her hips.

Ron winced and put a hand up to make sure the top of his head was still there. He staggered back another couple of steps and dropped into a chair. "Sorry..._sorry_!" he groaned, resting his pounding head on the table. A second later, he heard the soft clunk of something being put on the table and a second later, the foul, unmistakeable odour of a Hangover Cure Potion wafted across his olfactory nerve.

He turned his head slightly and opened one bleary eye; Harry had somehow managed to get the bottle from the top cupboard where all the everyday potions were kept, open it and direct it to Ron. Of course he probably hadn't moved, just commanded the elements with his magic..._whatever_, and regardless of the smell and the foul taste he knew he would be imbibing, Ron silently thanked his friend and downed the potion.

Keeping his head on the table while the potion worked its wonders, Ron distinctly heard Ginny say, "you should have left him to suffer."

"A Firewhisky induced hangover can hardly be conducive to him listening to a frank and open disclosure of what happened to you to cause you to leave, can it?" Harry pointed out with infuriating logic

Ron knew that Ginny had crossed her arms and was staring at Harry belligerently; he could feel the air crackle around her. "Why should I give him a frank and open anything, except perhaps the palm of my hand across his supercilious face," returned Ginny spitefully.

Ron winced internally. He knew he deserved her censure...and Hermione's, and Harry's; he had been a total twat yesterday. He may have been drunk, but Ron _always_ remembered what happened when he had tied one on.

_If only I could work out a way to avoid feeling like pond scum the next day._

Now Ron could hear Harry's footsteps heading for the stairs. "Don't cut off your own nose to spite your face, Ginny," Harry said quietly admonishing. "Ron knows you're back. Now he needs to know why you disappeared. And I know you need to get it off your chest. _Ron_ is the first step back into the arms of your family."

More footsteps receding upwards..."You're still leaving?" asked Ginny a little desperately. "You don't know the story either."

"You can tell me anytime." Footsteps descended the stairs again, and then there was the slight rustle of clothing, a tiny exhalation of breath and then...

Ron lifted his head slightly-blessedly, his crown did not try to launch itself into space-and opened eyes that were no longer sensitive to light, and enabled him to view the private moment between his sister and best friend: Harry was holding the back of Ginny's head and was snogging her very enthusiastically (despite the burden of the kid straddling his hip), and Ginny wasn't putting up a fight.

Ron lowered his head again; there were things it was better he didn't see. After several excruciating seconds, he cleared his throat and creaked upright again hoping to cause enough of a distraction to separate the pair. But Harry ignored him and took his time ending the kiss. When he did end it, he rested his forehead against Ginny's and said softly, "I don't care what happened, or who Bonnie's father is; you're here with me now and that's enough for me to be going on with."

Ron had pushed himself to his feet and was noisily involved in coffee preparations. Harry looked at Ron and delivered one last admonition: "remember what we talked about last night, Ron. Don't stuff this up."

~GWHP~

Ron couldn't believe it, but Harry really did leave; now he was alone with a hostile sister and somehow, he had to make things right with her. At least she hadn't left the kitchen, so perhaps he had a chance. He cleared his throat: "err, do you want some coffee?"

Ginny crossed her arms and leaned against the cabinets. "You've really got a lousy memory, haven't you, Ron?"

Ron gazed at his sister, noting for the first time just how thin she was. When he continued to look blank, Ginny added, "I hate coffee, Ron, unless it's a weak cappuccino."

Ron looked down at the jar of instant coffee into which he had begun to insert the spoon again He changed course and reached for the teapot, but Ginny told him that a teabag would do. When the drinks were made and Ron handed Ginny hers and seated himself at the table, he couldn't think where to start: Ginny wasn't inclined to help him out, and she preferred to remain standing, obviously keeping as much of a distance as she could. They both sipped their drinks in an uncomfortable silence.

Finally, Ron took his courage in hand and asked- "do you love him?"

Ginny's head snapped up and she stared at her brother. "That," she snapped, "is none of your business."

"You said yesterday that you used to love him. And you're going to marry him."

"_He_ has given me back my life. And _he_ doesn't give a toss about why I did what I did. Harry doesn't judge me, Ron. He asked me to marry him, because he thinks that if we are a couple, the family will accept me back into the fold more readily." She put her mug down with a loud thump. "What do you think, Ron?"

Ron opened his mouth, but words failed him.

"So, you don't think that my marrying Harry and him legitimising my daughter' existence will appease the Weasleys?"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know why I'm bothering, really. But it's important to Harry that the Weasleys become a cohesive unit again. He just won't get it through his head though, that Mum and I were never what could be called, 'cohesive'." Ginny wiggled the first and second fingers of both hands in midair to emphasise the adjective.

Ron sighed. "Ginny, I swear I never realised just how tense things were between you and Mum." Ginny snorted.

"I promise you, I didn't," he reiterated. "Oh, yeah, she asked me to keep an eye on you during that last year at Hogwarts, but there wasn't quite as much communication going on between us as you seem to think." Ginny snorted again in disbelief.

"Honestly," he said a little desperately. "Two, three letters tops, for the whole year. You must remember what a crap letter writer I was...still am, come to that." He looked into the murky depths of his coffee before raising despairing eyes to her face. "That whole bloody year was a disaster. The only time I can remember you actually talking kindly to me was when I was poisoned, and that whole episode was pretty vague."

"I might have been furious with you most of the time, Ron, but I didn't want you to die."

"But why wouldn't you talk to me if you were so bloody unhappy," he asked desperately.

Ginny laughed derisively. "Talk! _Talk_, Ron. I couldnt talk to you; if I did try, you just blew me off! And if you had tried to talk to me at some stage during the year instead of bellowing, or ordering, or-as was most often the case-ignoring me completely, things might have been very different."

Suddenly there were tears in Ginny's eyes. She bit her lip and crossed to the window to stare blindly out into the tiny yard.

Ron ran a hand through his too-long hair, making it stick up in all directions-he could have given Harry a run for his money. "It was a totally shit year," he said. "Quidditch, Lavender, Harry's obsession with the ferret _and_ his bloody 'Half-Blood Prince' Potions text-_that_ practically sent Hermione round the twist..."

"You snogging Lavender at every turn wouldn't have had anything to do with sending Hermione around the twist, I suppose?" said Ginny cattily.

"In retrospect: _touche_!" muttered Ron. Then he continued with his litany of the horrors of his 6th year at school, the worst of which, until her disappearance, had been his own brush with death and then Dumbledore's actual death.

The reminder of the horror end to her 5th year at school took the wind out of Ginny's sails: there was nothing snarky she could say, nor indeed, wanted to say. Dumbledore's death had made her own situation pale into insignificance, but at the same time, it had made everything that much harder to bear. The old wizard was the glue that seemed to bind the good and decent people of the Wizarding World together...not the corrupt Ministry, nor even the Minister for Magic at the time. Her leaving had just been an extension of the nightmare that magical Britain found itself in after there was no longer an Albus Dumbledore to guide them through the mire.

She later found out dribs and drabs of the Harry Potter legend from Faith: that the young man she loved had been the one whose shoulders had to bear the collective hopes and dreams of the anti-Voldemort faction...the one all were determined to call 'Saviour'. A truly daunting responsibility for a seventeen year old.

And now this same young man-only slightly older-was the saviour of her and her daughter.

"Ginny?"

Ginny snapped out of her introspection; it seemed Ron had been trying to gain her attention for a while. When he had it, he pushed the chair opposite him out with his foot. "Come and sit down and tell me what happened with the fe...with Malfoy," he said.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you can stand to listen, Ron? The name 'Malfoy' will feature in the narrative."

"I promise to do my utmost not to repeat yesterday's performance; I want to hear what happened, and, like Harry, I think _you_ need to get it off your chest."

They held each other's gazes for a minute and then Ginny, finally sensing that _this_ Ron had now had time to come to terms with her return from the dead and was ready to listen, crossed the room and slipped into the chair opposite Ron.

~HPGW~

Ginny didn't quite know where to start, now that she had the floor, but finally she leaned back in her chair with the air of someone who was finished dissembling. She reluctantly began to talk, her voice unsteady but gradually becoming firmer as she got into story-telling mode.

"My-shall we say-liaison with Malfoy came about as a result of my loneliness and sense of abandonment, combined with Malfoy's cunning, and desire to do anything to piss you off. _Especially_ you Ron."

"Malfoy breathing pissed me off," muttered Ron darkly, but when he saw Ginny's lips thin, he shut his mouth firmly.

"Exactly," said Ginny. "So, he had the inside edge right from the start because your hatred of him made you blindingly angry and gave him the clear-headed advantage."

"But how did you ever take up with him in the first place?" burst out Ron with quiet desperation, unable to keep his mouth shut, needing to understand how his little Gryffindor sister, a part of the biggest blood-traitor family in Wizarding Britain at the time, had taken up with a Slytherin whose father was a Death Eater, and, unbeknownst to anyone else at the time-except Harry with his 6th sense-was a Death Eater himself.

But Ginny didn't go off the deep end and tell him to shut it; she just sighed and looked even more miserable. "It's pathetic, I know it is; I knew it back then, but the more the three of you immersed yourselves in your little enclave of secrecy and especially as Harry became even more distant, I began to feel totally neglected and really angry.

"After having been included in your super-cool gang..." -again, the fingers made air quotation marks- "during the holidays, the three of you totally ignored me after our trip to Diagon Alley, and I had a real sense of being a total waste of space where all of you were concerned. Even Hermione, who might have taken notice of me because you were out of the picture for a few months, was so blinded by jealousy over you and worry over Harry, the rest of the world hardly existed for her...well except for her books and schoolwork of course. That hurt more than Harry's total indifference because up till my 5th year, Hermione and I were really good friends.

"The girls in my year were so immature; all they could talk about were boys and music, hair and makeup..._so_ not my scene. Luna was the only tolerable one, but you have to admit that a little Luna goes a very long way

"Amen to that," agreed Ron.

"...and anyway, she's essentially a loner."

Ron nodded: he didn't like hearing how self obsessed he had been back then (he never liked being reminded of the 'Lavender months', when he had been slave to his hormones and what little sense he may have possessed had taken up residence in his dick.) Ginny's obvious unhappiness hadn't even registered with him; he had thought her content in her relationship with Dean. Clearly not...she had been pining after Harry.

Ron was listening even though his thoughts whirled; Ginny was still talking, but was now unable to meet his eye; she was drawing patterns with her finger in the toast crumbs on a discarded plate.

"I don't know why Malfoy decided to target me, but he did, and he guessed that I was feeling peeved with the three of you...well, I don't suppose too much guesswork was necessary; I had broken up with Dean and I never exchanged a word with the three of you, nor any of you with me. I must have looked totally miserable all the time; the girls in my dorm even commented on it.

"One day when I was leaving the Great Hall, Malfoy was leaving at the same time; he stood back to let me go through the door first, forcing those oaf body guards of his aside as well, and...well, he smiled at me.

"There was no- 'out of my way, Weaslette', which was the sort of thing he usually said to me. After that, we seemed to bump into each other much more frequently than I could ever remember doing before and his supercilious airs and graces seemed to have vanished; he usually smiled or nodded at me. How thick was I..."

Ron's face had become a blank mask and his arms were loosely crossed over his chest; he was trying to look unconcerned by his sister's distasteful words, but he was only managing to look constipated.

"At first, it freaked me out, but then one day, Harry walked straight past me without any kind of acknowledgement at all, and Draco was there. And even though Harry gave _him_ a scathing look for what seemed no reason at all, Draco just smiled at me sympathetically, as if he knew how upset I was, and I found myself smiling back."

Ron looked as if he might vomit, but he managed to control himself, as well as desist from making a scathing comment.

It seemed as if Ginny's fountain of words was in danger of drying up; she grabbed an empty cup and began to turn it between her fingers. She had come too far to stop now, but when she did continue, it was in a much quieter voice.

"He told me that Potter was a bloody idiot if he couldn't see what was right under his nose. Then he walked off to his next class. After that, I suppose because I was feeling so aggrieved, I occasionally responded when he spoke to me, and eventually, when I found myself in his company, I stopped scurrying off."

This was more than Ron seemed to be able to tolerate for the moment. He shoved his chair back and crossed to the window where he stood looking out, his back rigid. But Ginny was on a roll now; she had to keep going or else her courage would dry up, along with the words. So she ignored her brother's distress and continued.

"For a while, it was only chance meetings-or so I thought-in the corridors, and he was always so pleasant, and I know you won't want to hear this Ron, but he was charming and funny and clever..."

Ron's shoulders hunched up somewhere around his ears. "And a skilled conman," he ground out, still staring into space through the window.

Ginny sighed and nodded her bright head. "Yes, and I was a consummate, wilful fool. I blinded myself to those qualities which we knew about and convinced myself that my old attitude to him was entirely based around the unreasonable prejudice the three of you harboured against him, and not on my own observations."

This was too much: Ron spun round and glared at his sister. She would have cringed away from the blazing fury in his eyes, but at the moment, she was too numb, caught up as she was in the past.

"But what about the things you _did_ see for yourself, Ginny," he ground out. "The time in Flourish and Blotts when he tried to demean us all-you even stood up to him when he was gunning for Harry, for Merlin's sake! And Lucius Malfoy insulted Dad and started a fight. Like father, like son, I say. And then there was the time when he humiliated you when you made a Valentine's card for Harry-and-_and..." _

Ron dug his fingers into his scalp and pulled his hair as if he was demented-Ginny supposed he was. "Hell, there were so many instances of him being what he really is, I can't even begin to verbalise them; and I'm sure you saw a good proportion of them."

Ginny nodded her head wearily. "Yes, I saw quite a bit and I heard the rest from you three. But I'm not trying to make excuses for him, Ron, I'm just trying to tell you how deluded I was and what happened to make me decide to run."

Ron shook his head and took a deep breath that seemed to come from his trainers; with remarkable control, he walked stiffly back to the table and sat, leaning inelegantly back in his chair. "I've seen the proof of what happened, Ginny," he stated calmly, but now Ginny sprang to her feet and leaned towards him, her hands braced on the table.

"There you go, jumping to conclusions. Just _shut_ _up_ and let me finish!" Ron was so taken aback by the return of Ginny's temper, he did exactly as she asked, though he had to bite the inside of his cheek to restrain himself.

Ginny began to pace: the calmness of the last ten minutes was gone and agitation had taken over. "The meetings in the corridors were becoming more frequent and lasting longer as we chatted and laughed together. Even you seeing us often, and becoming apoplectic each time, just added spice to the meetings...remember, I wasn't best pleased with you. And Draco..."

_"Stop calling him that_!" bellowed Ron, making Ginny jump. "Like he's a friend or something. It's clear you don't have feelings for him anymore, so don't humanise him by calling him, _Draco!_"

"You're right," said Ginny calmly, and Ron was taken aback by her easy capitulation. She continued as though he hadn't interrupted.

"_Malfoy _was clever. Even though he could see how furious I was with you, Harry and Hermione, he didn't start insulting you to my face. He knew that it was OK for me to deride you at every turn, but he just listened and changed the subject when I had vented because he knew I wouldn't take anyone else insulting you.

"Anyway, one day I just happened to mention that I was having trouble with an Arithmancy problem, and as he took the subject, he offered to help me. I refused to ask Hermione and so I accepted his offer and we met in the library. After that first time, we met there often."

Ron's face was slowly turning puce, but amazingly, he held his tongue.

"As Hermione frequented the library so much, we had to hide in pretty out of the way corners; we met in sections that I was pretty sure she wouldn't be interested in. The Muggle Studies area was perfect, because after her stint with Muggle Studies in your third year, she pretty much avoided that section of the library. "

"She'd probably read every book on the self by then, anyway," opined Ron, and Ginny shared a grin with him...albeit, pretty feeble on both their parts.

Ginny sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. She really wished Harry would come back; she needed his calming presence to be able to tell the rest of it. She needed something to do, so she went to the fridge and began to pull out the makings for sandwiches; she reasoned that Harry would be hungry when he got back and Ron was always hungry.

Ron watched with a dispassionate eye as she set everything up with military precision, and listened as she resumed talking. "Anyway, he came that first evening and helped me with my Arithmancy. We did our homework together for a while after that first night, but then, inevitably, Hermione did find us, and, of course, reported straight to you."

She turned with a knife in hand to look at him - her face was pale, her freckles standing out across the bridge of her nose. "You remember we had the worst fight out in the grounds? But at least you had the good sense to confront me in private."

"You slapped me across the face," said Ron, touching his left cheek in remembered pain.

"You deserved it!" Ginny flung back. "The things you accused me off..."

"Well, in retrospect I wasn't too far off the mark, was I?" bit out Ron. To his horror, tears pooled in Ginny's eyes and began to spill down her cheeks. She turned back to her sandwiches, but she was too distraught to continue. He saw that her shoulders were shaking, though her crying was silent.

Ron was beginning to get a really bad feeling; he wanted reinforcements. He wasn't good with teary women. He stood and drew his wand; he thought of Hermione in her wedding dress, and silently incanted, "_Expecto Patronum."_

His _Jack Russell Patronus_ instantly shot from the end of his wand and sat on its haunches, wagging its tail and waiting for instructions: within a second, it had disappeared through the ceiling with Ginny being none the wiser.

Under Hermione's patient tutelage, Ron had mostly mastered Non-Verbal spells. He was quite surprised with his success this time though, because if there was one thing that could put him off his game, it was stress; and his stress levels were through the roof. Perhaps he was just getting better with age.

Ginny was still crying and Ron, feeling supremely uncomfortable, rounded the table and approached the shaking form of his sister; he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her awkwardly against his side. That was it for Ginny: she gulped, trying to hold back the sobs, but they couldn't be suppressed. She turned fully into her brother's arms and in a replay of yesterday, she wept against his chest.

"Shhh," he soothed, resting his lips against the top of her head. "Shhh. Gin, you don't have to tell me anymore. I can guess the rest."

Ginny pulled back slightly, her eyes swollen, and her face wet. She began to delve into her sleeve, looking for a hanky or tissue, but came up empty handed. Ron fished in his own pocket; the hanky he produced wasn't, he was relieved to see, too disgusting to hand over - in fact, it was relatively clean.

"What do you think you know, Ron?" she asked, sniffling into the hanky.

Ron led her over to a chair and guided her onto it. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her narrow shoulders_. "_Gin, I might not be the brightest firework in a _Conflagration Deluxe _box, but even I know what has to happen to produce a baby.

"Really, Ron," Ginny's voice was muffled through the hanky. She blew her nose and wadded the piece of cotton in her hand. "So, why don't you tell me your version of events."

"Ginny..."

"Tell me!" she yelled, wiggling out from under his arm. But before Ron could open his mouth again, both their attention was diverted when Harry stepped into the kitchen, sans Bonnie. Ginny was instantly on her feet. "Where's Bonnie?" she asked a little hysterically. "And what are you doing back here?"

Harry's eyes flicked to Ron, but he said simply, "it started to rain." Ginny and Ron automatically looked to the window, and sure enough, the rain was pouring down. Both of them were surprised: when they had taken it in turns to stand at the window, the sky whad been bright blue and cloudless.

"So, where's Bonnie?"

"I'm afraid I put her to sleep again. I wasn't sure if you were finished and we'll have to figure out a strategy to get her to accept Uncle Ron." Ron's face reddened.

Ginny moved away from the table and went back to her sandwich-making, her movements jerky and far from coordinated . "_Uncle_ Ron was just going to relate to me what he thinks happened to make me leave the Wizarding World," snapped Ginny. "But he best hurry because he'll have to leave soon as I don't want my daughter to be in another artificial sleep for as long as she was yesterday."

Ron ran his hand through his hair, while Harry went over to help Ginny with her frenetic task. She had nearly made enough sandwiches to feed a legion.

"Why is Ron telling the story?" asked harry reasonably.

"Because," bit out Ginny, "he thinks he has it all worked out. He thinks...he thinks I had sex with Malfoy - found out I was pregnant - was afraid to confront my family with such shocking news, and so left everything and everyone I know behind while I ran away to have a Muggle adventure! Is that not right, Ron?"

"Merlin, Ginny," cried Ron in exasperation. "What else am I to think? We fought - you basically told me to get stuffed - short of locking you up or doing him in,-which is something I had considered more than once during our time at Hogwarts-I couldn't stop you from seeing Malfoy." He groaned as the memory of that horrible time in his life really hit home. "How in the name of all that is magical and morally right, could you fall for Draco Malfoy?" he wailed.

"_Because_ _I had_ _no_ _one_ _else_ _Ron_!" Ginny screeched back. She slammed the knife down and Harry moved it out of harm's way. Ginny stomped across to stand over Ron, her arms akimbo. "I kept seeing Draco, yes - but part of the attraction was your very decided hostility towards the whole situation.

"I kept seeing him, and I enjoyed his company. After you or Hermione popped up one time too often in the library we had to sneak around even more- we met in the grounds where there are plenty of places to hide.

We met most evenings, despite the cold and he was all that a vulnerable teenage girl could hope for in the romance department.

"That's obvious," snarled Ron.

"Nothing's obvious, Ron! That's the whole point of my telling you all of this. If it was obvious, I wouldn't have to tell anything, would I?"

"_Shit Ginny! _Stop talking in bloody riddles, for Christ sake!"

Harry had kept his counsel and listened to the siblings while piling sandwiches on a platter and placing them in the middle of the table. Now Ron's temper was beginning to fray again. "_Ron!" _He said in warning tones. "That's enough!"

"So, you want plain speaking, Ron?" asked Ginny in a deceptively mild voice, ignoring Harry's intervention on her behalf.

"Merlin, just get _on_ with it. What did he do? Did you tell him about the baby and he gave you your marching orders...

"Has your opinion of me always been so rock-bottom, Ron?"

"Not until you started up with the ferret," returned Ron harshly.

"That's _enough_, Ron!" ordered Harry darkly; this time, there was no brooking any opposition. He spoke to Ron, but he was looking at Ginny. Ginny, for her part was pacing back and forth, her face as pale as death, her eyes sparkling with pent up emotion and her hands clenched tightly at her sides. Harry knew something terrible was going to pass and he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent its being said - he was sure that he was going to hear the reason why he had never pushed Ginny to tell her story; he had always intuited that there was more to tell than the evidence of Bonnie's existence proved.

Ron had no such intuition as he continued to push. "Why won't she just come out and s..."

And sure enough...

"_**He raped me, Ron!"**_

~GWHP~

The only noise that pervaded the space were Ginny's soft, agitated footsteps. No words could be produced by Ron because the hinges of his jaw seemed to be stuck in the wide-open position; it also appeared-if his pallor was any indication-that all the blood had rushed from his head, which seemed to have the effect of paralysing his senses as thoroughly as his jaw.

Harry too, was rendered mute, but not through shock-he had been expecting just such a revelation-his silence was due to his concern for Ginny: his thoughts of what the younger Ginny had endured at the hands of a young man who had now been proven, even at the tender age of seventeen, to be evil, gripped his mind so thoroughly, he was afraid to give voice to his fury in case he succumbed to the desire to seek out Malfoy and exact revenge on Ginny's behalf.

Harry concentrated on taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, Ron, meanwhile, instead of trying for the same containment, regained the use of his lungs and limbs: he roared like a wounded lion and leaping to his feet, began to pace like a madman.

"The _**bastard!" **_he bellowed, his face puce.

After jumping with fright at the turbulence created by the sudden and vehement expletive, the air seemed to leak out of Ginny and she sank bonelessly into the chair Ron had just vacated. Harry sat down next to her and cautiously put his arm around her shoulders and drew her against him. While Ron railed up and down the kitchen, Ginny allowed herself to accept Harry's comfort; it was a balm when compared to the wrathful entity that her brother had become.

Though she had never verbalised her horror history to Harry since meeting him again, and despite her original antipathy, she had never had any doubt that he would not shun her. Indeed, if he had presumed, as had Ron (and she was sure, Hermione), that she had been a willing sexual partner with Malfoy, surely he could think no worse of her for knowing the real facts.

After several painful moments of weeping and sniffling and making use of Harry's chest, Ginny stiffened and lifted her head, looking at him with fearful doubt. In the background, Ron continued to pointlessly rant and rave against Malfoy; energy expended, thought Harry with a corner of his mind, on pointless frenzy when comforting his sister would be more to the point.

Harry, his eyes and heart filled with nothing but Ginny, raised his eyebrows at her hesitant expression. He stroked her cheek with a gentle finger. "Don't even think that any blame can be attributed to you for what happened," he said softly.

Ginny gulped back another sob and swiped at her eyes with Ron's damp hanky. "But I was seeing him!" she wailed.

Harry pulled her close again, smoothing her glorious hair with a gentle hand. "Being with a person and enjoying that person's company for whatever period of time, does not give that person the right to demand sex!" said Harry emphatically.

Ginny shook her head a little wildly. "But he never demanded it... sex... He never did. He never even kissed me - not really...not snogging. He'd kiss my hand, or my cheek; he never kissed me on the lips." She huffed out a self-derogatory laugh. "How thick was I. If he had really been interested in me, he would have snogged me." She raised red, swollen eyes to Harry for conformation. "I mean, Dean and Michael always wanted to snog..Dean wanted more than snogging." Ginny didn't see Ron's face ranging through the whole gamut of colours he was cable of producing. "I mean, I'm not totally repulsive. Am I?"

Harry shook his head. "You're anything but repulsive, Gin. You're beautiful now and you were beautiful back then."

Ron had stopped his mad pacing to listen to this exchange between his sister and best friend. It made him uncomfortable because it was obvious that Harry really did care for Ginny. So when he spoke, his voice was gruff. "Then if he didn't demand sex, what the bloody hell did he do?"

Harry glared at him, his eyes behind his glasses flashing green sparks. Ron took note of his friends anger and finally bothering to look at his sister curled into Harry's side and really registering her distress, he sagged as the rage leaked out of him. Expelling a deep breath he moved to the table and carefully pulled out a chair and sat at Ginny's other side.

In a most un-Ron like gesture, he took Ginny's free hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'm sorry, sis," he said. "I am trying to keep it together."

Ginny squeezed back weakly. "Not as sorry as I am," she whispered. She sat up and Harry loosened his hold and began to rub a gentle circle on her back. "If I hadn't been so damned headstrong- so determined to do anything that would upset you, and hence, Mum..."

"I never told her," pronounced, Ron. "Not even after you disappeared." Ginny looked at him in amazement. "I didn't see the point in upsetting her and Dad any more than they already were. And as Malfoy had already run off with the Death Eaters well before you were gone, we had no reason to think he could have had anything to do with your vanishing act, at least not directly; you were around right up until we left after Dumbledore's funeral. And even though _we_ had hardly spoken for a couple of weeks, you were talking to Hermione at that stage and she said you were a bit down but otherwise all right. And she saw you getting into one of the carriages to go to the station."

Ginny was gazing into space, though she was very aware of Harry's tender ministrations. "I wondered why she never wrote, why I didn't get a _Howler_."

Ron was horrified. "Mum wouldn't have sent a _Howler _about something so personal." Ginny looked at him pityingly.

"Of course she would have, you dolt! She sent a Howler to you pronouncing to the world that Dad was in all sorts of trouble at work because of the flying car." Ron's face had reddened as that particular memory was forced to the forefront of his consciousness.

"Surely that was something that should have been private family business. It was like she lost all reason and control when she got really angry!" mused Ginny. She bestowed a faraway look on her brother. "You're a bit the same way, actually." Ron reddened even more.

"She's much more controlled these days," informed Harry gently. "I think she spends quite a lot of her time looking at her past actions. She's a shadow of her former self."

Ginny looked at Harry disbelievingly. "If you're trying to make me feel guilty, Harry, you needn't bother." Harry looked appalled.

"That wasn't what I was doing, Ginny," he said emphatically.

"But he's right," put in Ron. "She has changed, Ginny. "The grand kids are her sole consolation these days."

Ginny's lips thinned. "Really? I wonder if she will accept an illegitimate granddaughter with some Malfoy characteristics."

"I'm sure she will," said Harry without hesitation. Despite her misery, Ginny let out a disbelieving snort.

"Ginny, you were _raped_!" Pointed out Ron, successfully putting the subject back on track. And despite fresh tears welling in his sister's eyes, he continued determinedly. "Mum can't put any blame on you for that. Especially if she doesn't know you and Malfoy were an i..."

Ginny's glare, even through swimming eyes stopped him mid-word. "Err...I mean, that you socialised on occasion."

"Don't be frightened to call a spade a spade Ron. _I_ thought Malfoy and I were an item. But he had a whole other agenda going." She gave an involuntary sob. "He was just stringing me along. Probably for the purpose of getting back at me...at all of us I suppose, for getting his father put in prison. And I ignored the fact that he had always called us_ Blood Traitors_. Those sorts of sentiments never change-he hated Gryffindors in general, and he especially hated Weasleys, Potters and Grangers. _Mudbloods_...anyone, in fact, who wasn't a pure blood Slytherin.

"And because I was put out with you two and Hermione, it was easy for him to con me. I _let_ myself be conned. All along, he was thinking coolly and clearly and he had a final scene in mind right from the start.

"I, on the other hand, really came to like him. He could charm for England, and one stupid, angry, lovelorn, hormonal teenage girl, fell for his charms."

Ginny blew her nose while Harry and Ron sat silently and watched her in her misery. Harry felt increasingly guilty about his total disregard and neglect of the younger Ginny during that fateful year, knowing there was nothing he could do to change any of it.

But he was also baffled: he could not understand how any female, let alone one as clever and insightful as Ginny had always been, could be so thoroughly taken in by such a sleezebag as Malfoy had always been. Harry had witnessed the Slytherin on more than one occasion chatting up other girls at school, and his technique was cringe-worthy as far as he was concerned...he had been so phoney with his compliments and gallantry; it was beyond comprehension how any girl could be taken in by him.

_But what did I know? I had one date in the whole of my time at Hogwarts and that was an unmitigated disaster. If Malfoy's methods got him what he wanted, then who's the pathetic loser, him or me? I could have had Ginny in my life for the last four odd years had I but known...had I been aware she was even alive and pining for me. __**IDIOT**__!_

But even though he had had his work cut out for him that year with his extra-curricular lessons with Dumbledore, as well as his own Malfoy fixation, he knew missing all the signs from and about Ginny was not really something he could beat himself up over...hell, even having registered that she was alive and at the castle had been a miracle considering how obsessed he had been with Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy.

But there was something he was forgetting. Harry's brow furrowed as he went over the revelations that had come to light since yesterday. And after a few moments, he realised what it was. He looked at Ginny who seemed to be reliving some of her past pain if the faraway look in her eyes and the occasional sniffle were anything to go by. Ron too was in another time and place, but at least he was acting true to form and was eating a sandwich; albeit with less than his usual gusto.

"Gin?" said Harry tentatively. "What did you mean yesterday when you said that you _thought _Bonnie was Malfoy's_?"_

Ron stopped chewing and Ginny paled so much, Harry thought she might faint; she actually swayed a little in her chair and she had to put her head down on her folded arms. Ron put his sandwich down and stared at his sister's vulnerable back; she didn't seem to be able to articulate any words.

"Yeah, Gin...what did you mean by that?"

Both Harry and Ron held their breath waiting for what they both knew was going to be another horrifying revelation; Ginny's words, in retrospect, could really only mean one thing.

Without lifting her head-as if she was incapable of doing just that-Ginny mumbled into her folded arms. "his plan wasn't just for his own revenge and gratification...he shared his prize with his two bookends: Crabbe and Goyle!"

**BTC...**

I am sure many of you out there would have been expecting this outcome, and it has taken a long time to finally get to the crux of the matter. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Some feedback would be lovely.

Lesley


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